


Horizons

by CrucioAndCoffee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Birates of the Caribbean, Character Growth, Emotional Healing, F/F, F/M, Gender Dysphoria, M/M, Mental Illness, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary!Calypso, Other, Past Alectrix as well as eventual, Polyamory, Self-Harm, Shapeshifting, Wizard!Jack, abusive bellamort and recovery from it, because everyone in the polysquad is a bisexual disaster, bipolar!bellatrix, bisexual!bellatrix, genderqueer!jack sparrow, mental health, nonbinary!bellatrix, pirate!bellatrix, they/them pronouns, wizard!barbossa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2019-06-26 15:02:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 62,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15665610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrucioAndCoffee/pseuds/CrucioAndCoffee
Summary: Bellatrix Lestrange is a vile evil woman with a past equally as wretched and was recently broken out of Azkaban by her Lord. Though due to the work of her mother, Bellatrix is sent back in time with the reason a mystery to her. In a quick turn of events, she’s met with an ancestor in need of help and a new life aboard a pirate vessel in the Caribbean. Twists and turns take her as she makes a name for herself as a demon from hell. Though a pirate captain and a witch catch her eye and affections. Is the 18th century the correct time to heal her wounds?[Part 1 of 6 is complete][Part 2 is in Edits/Posting]





	1. Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: A few things before we start: this fic is split into 6 parts. I’ve completed Part One (40k words) and am working on Part Two as of now. The Nonbinary aspect and Bipolar aspect are both own voice things (I am both.) It will be from my experience (maybe not to the T) and it might be different for someone else’s and that’s ok, but this is just from my research and personal life. 
> 
> I’m taking mostly from the POTC Movies, and both books and movies for Harry Potter. There is a whole book expanded universe for POTC I have not read and only come across on wikia so some of it is ignored. If I didn’t see it in the movies, it’s not applying here.
> 
> More tags will be added as it goes along. I do not think this needs trigger warnings, though the bellamort scene is quiet creepy.

**Part One: By Blood And Curses**

* * *

Bellatrix stirred, body unhindered by any chains yet her limbs encumbered and weighed down by lead. Her eyes were unable to stay open. Whatever cloud she laid upon did not move, so maybe she’d finally withered away and died. But why a cloud? Heaven was no option for Bellatrix—not after her crimes against the world. There was no hellfire she’d come to expect; simply darkness that made no effort in aiding her in discerning where she was. 

It wasn’t death. No, she was entirely too comfortable. _Flashes, rumbles of a storm boomed. Wind whipping her hair violently in each direction. Freedom. The rain on her face. The sea below churning angrily, yet the storm lessening as a cackle belted from her throat._ She had escaped hell, and death itself. Bellatrix was alive again, twisting in a bed. The piles of blankets pressing down on her fragile frame made it hard work. She gasped for breath, energy, anything while her mind flickered between the room or a black abyss.

 _How lucky I am to have survived—no, not luck—The Dark Lord. After all the shit I put him through, it’s not luck, it’s a miracle. Getting caught like an amateur. Arrested—Arrested like a lowly criminal. Shameful!_ Bellatrix groaned at the thoughts bouncing in her head. Competing between other self-deprecating voices trying to win out. Could her thoughts for once be quiet and less hostile?

A light hovered into the room, leaving a ghostly pale glow amongst the furniture. It was a bodiless light like a fairy floating in the air drifting at its pleasure. Bellatrix snapped her eyes closed, as even its dimness was too bright. She recoiled, burying herself deep within the covers.

“Off,” she said. Her voice cracked, unused for too long.

“Come now Bella,” came a female voice.

Bellatrix groaned and nudged her head over the covers, hair tumbling all over like spilled ink, with pale strands highlighting each ringlets’ stroke with age. Her grey eyes adjusted to the light level. It had been snuffed out enough, and a figure appeared at the foot of the bed. It was shadowed, but a vision of blonde hair hued like platinum, with crisp blue eyes, and a slim body dressed in dark greens and blues.  

“Cissy,” she said with a disgustingly meek hiss. Bellatrix jerked up. “Where is the Dark Lord!” _Yes, where is the only reason I’m alive?_

A grimace unfolded on Narcissa’s face as she put down a small tray with a bowl of something on the end table next to her. It smelled like soup. There was a disconnect between Narcissa’s cold expression and the warmness of her aura—a feeling exclusive to Bellatrix.

She placed a hand on Bellatrix’s shoulder and gingerly pushed her down. “He’s busy. I’ve been left in charge of healing you.”

Bellatrix paused. The warmth of the bed and room tingled in her skin, which was so acclimated to the cold it was nearly unbearable how cozy she laid. Her stomach twisted into a knot, missing her Lord’s presence. She’d felt it for a second jolt through her as he broke the walls to her cell of Azkaban, but that was only a fleeting feeling and glimpse. She needed him. Bellatrix’s eyes darted about the room, but slowed, her lids falling heavy in the excitement.

Narcissa sat on the edge of the bed and observed her. “Look at you,” Narcissa whispered. It was sad, and her fading frown made it so. “You look dead.”

“But I’m not,” Bellatrix smirked while her voice dipped into a madness, cackle escaping. She caressed her sister’s cheek. “They tried, but it didn’t work.”

Narcissa didn’t respond. For a moment she merely stared at her hands, which she rung together. She fiddled with her wedding ring, and readjusted the cuffs to her dress. There was a silent _I can’t believe you’re here_ expression to Narcissa. Her eyes flicked over Bellatrix rapidly as if this was a dream. “I wouldn’t suppose you’re hungry,” Narcissa said quietly.

Bellatrix shifted, attempted to prop herself up, unable to find the strength. It was easier in Azkaban to lay still or hang from the chains, but this, moving by her own will, struck her hard. It was difficult, but she was a proud witch, a proud Black, and Bellatrix would never let this petty inconvenience of her body stop her. By willpower alone, she grabbed the bowl of broth and drank. The liquid burned down her throat, but she didn’t stop. It hurt, but it meant she was alive. A few gulps in and it was all her stomach could hold. Cissy took it, the silverware clanking as it hit the tray, and she laced her fingers through Bellatrix’s hair.

She retracted, fingers brushing Bellatrix’s cheeks. “Mum is here,” Narcissa said. Cold, the words felt cold. All love frozen out of them, and concern taking the front.

Bellatrix curled inwards. “Why?” she asked, voice clipping sharply.

“I suppose the same reason I’m sitting here—you, Bellatrix.”

She stared at Narcissa’s slumped shoulders. Bellatrix’s lips trembled, but not from sorrow. She took fists of the sheets and nearly ripped them from the bed. With what little energy she could muster, there was not enough to express how much she hated mother. Not a word fell from her cracked, dry mouth. Narcissa was staring off lost in something. It would be easy for Narcissa to be thinking in similar lines as her—sisters by blood and pain.

“She wants to see you,” Narcissa said. Her shoulders barely raised, posture slack, and head tilted to the door. Narcissa’s blonde hair fell over her shoulders lazily, and it was unlike her to let her hair go so frazzled and hang loosely about. Let alone sit so slumped. Bellatrix stroked her hand as gently as she could. Narcissa would have her head on a platter if she caught her sitting so common and slouched. What could have made the princess unwind so? She decided to blame mother.

Bellatrix huffed and crawled up, sitting next to her sister on the bed’s edge.

Narcissa raised her eyes and looked at Bellatrix again, yet this time they were severely redder. “Some days, I couldn’t stop thinking of you. I missed you. When I needed you I was alone. But you’re here now… and...” Narcissa grasped Bellatrix’s bony hands. Her voice quivered but steeled itself. It escaped her in a low whisper, “Even my dreams weren’t this awful.”

Bellatrix let Narcissa mumble about to herself. She couldn’t help. The only thing on her mind was to recuperate so she could return to her Lord’s side. He needed her of course. Her eyes traced the Dark Mark, ignoring the rest of her pale skin.

“I shouldn’t have let you go to the Longbottoms. I shouldn’t have let you become his—” Narcissa continued, shutting out her words with a click of her teeth. There was an eeriness to the room almost as if a cold front came in. Bellatrix stiffened at the change of atmosphere.

“My darling Bellatrix,” came mother’s voice from the doorway. When had she come in? She hadn’t made a sound.

Druella had similar long blonde hair, stoic stone cold stare, but the smile lines around her lips and temples were evident as well. The relationship between her and Narcissa was unquestionable, and she could pass as an elderly version which hadn’t fought hard to remain the vision of youth and vanity. Age had weathered her enough, but she still was a proud pureblood, looking down her nose at everyone, even her daughters.

Bellatrix searched for the cold, unfeeling glare she’d received as a child and even young adult, but it wasn’t there. _Strange. She’d usually scowl at me._

Instead of a frown, Druella held a pleasant smile, though it had a somber tone to it, and warm eyes glazed with blinked away tears. This was the most emotion Bellatrix had seen from her mother, save maybe the day Narcissa was born.

“Mother,” Bellatrix growled. “Why are you here? Don’t have anyone else to talk down to?” Bellatrix squeezed Narcissa’s hand tightly, but she didn’t react.

Druella recoiled and blinked rapidly. She stayed in place haunting the doorway. “Please don’t be like this, Bellatrix.” Her eyes hardened as she spoke—cold, like the air following a dementor—sucking the happiness out of her existence. That’s what she was, the human embodiment of a dementor.

Bellatrix slammed herself back into the bed, jerking the covers over herself, and faced away from Druella. She stared at the wall clutching the sheets and trying to breathe. There was no sound coming from the room and mother’s gaze bore a hole in her back.

“Bellatrix.” The lack of sympathy and a sharp demand for respect coated her words like poison to a dagger. Whatever emotions she mustered were gone as Bellatrix refused to give her whatever she was fishing for.

“I’ll see you again when you have more strength. Narcissa.” There was a shuffling and the closing of the door—Druella’s chilled presence gone from the room.

“I hate her,” Bellatrix groaned.

Narcissa patted her shoulder. “I know. I’m not exactly pleased she’s here either. But rest up. I’ll be back in the morning.”

Exhaustion struck, and Bellatrix’s view of the wall faded. Rest took her into its arms, carrying her off into the darkness of nightmare-filled sleep.

* * *

 

_Two Days Since Awakening_

There was a chill to the day and Malfoy Manor, met equally by snow on the grounds, but neither could compare to the frost rolling off Narcissa. She’d been on edge, and it was driving Bellatrix mad. Besides the fact Draco was coming home for Christmas holiday to have Death Eaters about the manor, it was the meeting with Bellatrix for the first time since he was a small toddler. She wasn’t as worried as Narcissa thought she should be, but alas what could she do?

“Cissy,” Bellatrix hissed.

Narcissa stopped their walk to the main parlor, her arm wrapped around Bellatrix’s waist, and pulled her tighter to her hip. “Almost there, Bella. Then you can take the potion to fix your teeth like you asked.” 

“Just get your elf to take me!” Bellatrix fought Cissa’s grip. Tiredness took over, and so did her begrudging nature. She wanted to snap, but her sister was merely trying to help. “I’m weak,” she spat. She gagged. Her, admitting she was weak and fragile, how pathetic.

“Bella…” the name fell silent off Narcissa’s lips.

A glance up and the facade cracked. Narcissa had the most pained expression. For the first time since she’d been broken out, she’d seen true anxiety on Cissy’s face.

“Bellatrix, please, you need this.”

“Oh no, my whole name,” she teased but flashed a smile. She groaned, pushing to trek farther, even without Cissy’s help.

The dark wooded halls all looked the same, and memory failed her. It wasn’t until Narcissa caught up and gently guided her to the parlor. Bellatrix teasingly snapped her teeth at her sister. She was fed up being treated as if she’d break at any second.

The room was hued green by paint and the furniture’s fabric, all bathed in a light yellow glow from the fireplace. Even with the fire, it was dark, but that was fine for Bellatrix. She preferred it that way. There was a tray of teas and snacks left out for them by the house elves. She took the seat closest on the sofa to the fire, her fingers tingling as they warmed. With the lack of meat on her bones, she was always freezing. Narcissa uncorked a flask and poured it into Bellatrix’s steaming tea.

“It should fix your teeth. It will hurt.” She handed Bellatrix a rag, probably to bite on.

Bellatrix pushed her hand away and drank it in one gulp. A few seconds of nothing before the sting in her teeth grew with her heartbeat. Her pulse thumped hard in her skull. Her fingernails dug into the arms of the chair, but she refused to let out more than a grunt of pain. It was excruciating, yes, but Narcissa didn’t need to know. _Pain is fine._

The pain lessened, and so did her tense grip. Bellatrix relaxed into the seat and beckoned Narcissa to sit with her. Her tongue slid across her teeth, and they were perfectly healthy again. One of Azkaban’s damages reversed, much more to go.

Narcissa sat next to Bellatrix and patted her hand. “Draco should be here soon.”

Bellatrix’s stomach twisted. She’d missed so much of her nephew’s life. So many questions about him brimmed in her mind. What was he like? Was he another Lucius or was he his own person? How was school? He’d be a Slytherin of course. She remembered his blonde hair, like both his parents and wondered if it stuck.

In her tiredness, her questions must have slipped out because Narcissa answered each one, albeit thoughtfully as if she was worried about her answers.

The doorknob to the parlor turned and entered Lucius. He and Bellatrix exchanged a mutual sneer but kept polite in the presence of Narcissa. A teenage boy waltzed in with blonde hair that rivaled both Narcissa and Lucius’. The way he carried himself was cocky and proud. Though, he seemed to relax at the sight of his mother. He was a handsome fellow and Bellatrix could agree, Draco had grown up well.

Though when he caught her glance, he froze. Fear. It swam in his eyes like she’d seen before. Many times over she’d enjoy it, be exhilarated by the flittering sight of it, but this struck a chord she did not like. It stung deep inside. Her own family should not look at her like her victims did. A thought of her’s echoed with a taunting pouting voice, “ _Aunty is too scary for wittle Draco._ ”

“Draco.” Narcissa stood and pulled him into an embrace. He melted into it. She kissed his forehead. “Say hello to your aunt.”

Lucius snickered but quickly stifled it after a pointed glare from Narcissa.

Bellatrix shifted and hugged Draco. It was strange and awkward. She could remember holding him as a small child, he barely could fit in her arms at times, but now he was grown. They parted, and he didn’t tug on her hair like he used to, which made sense. He was fifteen, not one. How much she’d missed.

She fell back into the seat and awkwardly spoke, “So I hear you like Quidditch?”

His eyes brightened as he sat across from them. “Yeah, I’m seeker for the Slytherin team. Would be the best without Potter there to steal the glory.”

Bellatrix smirked. She liked his fire. The mention of the Potter boy piqued her interest, and she pinned that thought for later. It was too soon to pry him for information. “I used to be a beater for the Slytherin team.”

Draco paled.

“Your mum used to be a chaser. I wouldn’t let anyone dream of touching her.” Bellatrix let a smile crawl across her lips, baring her newly fixed smile.

Draco hesitated but then relaxed into a smirk, seemingly enjoying the visual. He talked about his classes, and how school was going, giving Bellatrix a side glance every so often as the discussion tipped too far away from general small talk.

Bellatrix couldn’t help but crack a smile. Her nephew was talented and intelligent, and she was proud. He’d make a good Death Eater, but it was too soon to put that pressure on him. “ _Eventually_ ,” she mused.

Quiet struck the room. The warmth was sapped from it instantly. She snapped her head to the entrance. Druella stood in the doorway, back straight, with a small black box in her hands.

“Druella,” Bellatrix muttered, not giving her the courtesy of calling her mother.

“I have a welcome home gift for Bellatrix,” she said softly. Druella handed Bellatrix the small box. “Open it at your leisure.”

Bellatrix didn’t take it until Druella threw her a pointed glare. She ripped it from her hands but tossed it to sit next to her. Druella’s eyes softened and looked hurt, except she took a breath, returning to the cold, stoic woman visage. Her imposing aura was no match for Bellatrix’s terrifying one. Static crackled in the air as the two glared at each other. Time dragged out and intensified the tension brewing between the two. Druella then conceded and walked out of the room, softly closing the door behind her. Bellatrix quirked an eyebrow, keeping a scowl on her lips. _How strange._

She grumbled something under her breath, and she wasn’t really sure what she said, but Draco and Narcissa both blushed at her curses. Draco looked between the door and her, confusion warping his features.

“We never got along,” Bellatrix dead-panned. She cracked her knuckles and relaxed against Narcissa. Tiredness settled in her bones, and she huffed. The small box fell to the floor with a soft thud.

“You should open it.” Narcissa picked it up and toyed with it in her fingers. “Must be important if she delivered it herself.”

Bellatrix frowned, taking it into her hands. “Which is a good enough reason not to.”

* * *

Narcissa took extra care of her and mothered her to an endless extent. But it was far from what she wanted. Yes, Bellatrix missed her sister dearly and would burn the world if anything happened to Narcissa, but there was a yearning to be fit again for war. The Dark Lord needed her, and Bellatrix wanted to return to his side in top condition, not the sorry mess she was currently.

She sat at the vanity, inspecting her physical form, unhappy and topless. Her fingers traced her hollowed cheekbones, her lithe arms, her protruding ribs. Bellatrix’s focus unshakably fell onto her body, and couldn’t break it away. She repeatedly traced her ribcage and the marks on it. Small red streaks highlighted where her fingers previously passed. Her wrists, and thin arms, both were littered with scars. The rough flaking chafe marks from where she was chained still refused to heal even after numerous potions. She couldn't resist picking at them. The door creaked open. Whoever it was stood in the doorway, watching her, spiking anxiety and caution.

The glare in the mirror revealed it to be her Lord. Bellatrix bit her lip. She took a deep breath, this was the last thing she wanted, for him to see her so frail.

"Bellatrix," The Dark Lord breathed. It came out like a hushed hiss. His hands grasped her shoulders gently, and she closed her eyes, enjoying his cool touch to her skin. His fingers traced her sunken collar bones and the white scars on her biceps.

Her breath hitched, stuck in her throat. His presence spiked a particular anxiety in her soul. It calmed her, yet toyed her into being restless. Was it joy from seeing him again? The way he said her name? Bellatrix didn’t know, but he invoked something dangerous out of the blackness she called a soul.

"My Lord." Bellatrix watched his reflection. He'd changed since the last she saw him. Whatever ritual he used to return, altered his form. He was snake-like and his dark eyes she'd fallen in love with were now red like blood. Her Lord was pale before, but he was ghostlier now with almost translucent skin. That would not stop her admiration. She could feel his power in how he carried himself across to her, how he laid his hands on her, how he held the back of her neck.

Bellatrix looked down, her gaze forced down by her Lord. His thumb pushed into the base of her skull, and she leaned back into his touch. The pressure was welcome, a reassurance he was there. Only he could control her, only he cared about her, even when she had to be punished for failure—and so she never failed him, not again. Anxiety wrapped itself around her bony ribs. Had she failed him again? She'd done everything to find him after he disappeared. Surely he wouldn't hurt her for it, but he might over being caught and arrested. _But it was all in his name. For him! But I shouldn’t have been caught._

Her breath shook, and she swallowed her doubts. It wasn't fear, she refused to think it was fear. Her Lord had come for her, saved her from Cygnus and Druella, and then Azkaban. He broke her out. She had to be safe from his wrath. Bellatrix ignored the sour taste forming on her tongue as he eyed over her with a dissatisfied look and his lips flattened tightly. His fingers caressed her neck, brushing her mess of hair away. They dragged down her spine. Then touched her ribs, edging dangerously close to her breasts.

Bellatrix closed her eyes, holding in a moan. Her skin nearly hummed at his touch, calling out for more. Years she was locked away without it and needed it. It burned as he was pressing too hard, but she couldn't admit it. She was to never say it hurt.

"You've fallen," he said. His hands rubbed circles across her shoulder, caressing her skin, tenderly this time. It smoothed out some of the tension coiling in her and added others. "It's a pity. Once you were a beautiful warrior, and now..."

She sucked in her breath. Disappointment rang in his words, and echoed in her skull, banging against her confidence. He was displeased, and something in her gut tightened. Her body was restless under his touch, but he kept his grip tight, refusing to let her move.

"It will be remedied soon. Within the week. I'm still your warrior." She averted her gaze, keeping it down at her bony fingers. Bellatrix leaned into his touch, enjoying the contact, even if somehow it stung inside. _He needs me, even if he’s my weakness._

That's what he always said; love was a weakness of the light. But he was her weakness, and he knew it.

"It better be. We have a war to wage. I can’t have you injured worse, Bella." He kissed the top of her head. Then left the room.

Bellatrix watched him leave. Her skin crying out for his touch again as the cold air nipped at it.

She touched her body, and inspected herself closely, desperately, clawing at every broken flaw she saw. Her body needed to be fixed. Whatever, all, damages needed to be fixed. She was broken and useless in this form! Bellatrix swiped her hand against the vanity and knocked it’s beauty tools to the floor. She made a fist and slammed it against the wood. “ _I need to be fixed! Now! Fix, fix, fix,_ ” her mind repeated. She tore her nails across her ribs. The muscles in her body tensed painfully and rage boiled in them. She toppled the vanity over, before falling to her knees, exhausted.

If only Bellatrix knew it wasn’t just her body in need of healing.


	2. Blood Ties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the fun begins...
> 
> This chapter has minor violence but nothing too bad. Heads up.

**Part One: By Blood And Curses**

* * *

 

_Three Days Since Awakening_

Rest. Bellatrix was forced to rest with that infernal box still in her room. Narcissa wouldn’t let her throw it away, trying to play peacemaker. She knew what Mother was like, yet she decided to make peace. There was no peace with Druella. No love, no calm; merely anger, and hurt. Bellatrix remembered her childhood and teenage years, needing her mother to soothe her from her thoughts and mood swings, but she was met with cold. Andromeda was the one who calmed her the most, but Andy betrayed her. Narcissa hadn’t known how to handle her and still didn’t.

She’d sit in bed and absentmindedly pick at the wounds on her wrists, not genuinely noticing what she was doing. Her brain was too focused on what was in the box. What had mother given her? What could “fix” their relationship? Nothing could, but the mystery of what Druella thought was appropriate burned at Bellatrix. She didn’t realize the blood trickling down onto the bed until its wet droplets touched her knee, and its warmth coated her fingers. She merely shrugged.

Bellatrix didn’t know how long she sat there thinking, wondering, glaring at that infernal thing. The sun rested opposite of where it was moments ago. Her brain was busy with many thoughts, all arguing with each other about mother. Overcrowded, her mind felt overwhelmed with her own voice and the cacophony of thoughts. She fiddled with the box in her hands, grumbling, and curiosity getting the better of her. She opened it and inside sat a silver serpent ring with dark green gems set in for eyes and random scales. Her lips flattened into a tight grimace.

“What trick are you hiding?” she asked. A simple ring. It wasn’t like Mother, or anyone in her family to be subtle or simple. The metal was cool in her hands. The ring itself was twisting in place like it was excited to see her. Its small metal body writhed and its snake-like mouth curled into a smile. It slithered up and out of the box, onto her ring finger, replacing where her wedding band should have been. “Cute,” she muttered, spite dripping into it.

A soft green glow emitted from its gems in a sequence until all them were lit. Bellatrix stared into the soft humming light, unable to break her gaze. The lights twisted and danced, detaching from the ring, and surrounding her. They increased until the light engulfed her. Her body floated, weightless, in a cold nothingness like she was set adrift in an abyssal sea—swallowed by a black void.

* * *

What was once cold became overwhelmingly hot. The air was thick and humid. Despite the heat, Bellatrix shivered and struggled to lift her limbs. She was soaked to the bone. Her eyes opened slowly, the room around her dark save for the few candle lamps scattered about. The wall curved towards the floor and puzzled Bellatrix. The room swayed back and forth like a cradle.

Whatever she laid upon was stiff and uncomfortable against her back. Her limbs fought against righting herself, and the room spun, rocking and disorienting her further. The chamber was dotted with strapped down crates and barrels, and various other wooden and metal equipment. She attempted to stand only to fall to her knees. Curses broke the silent air, and Bellatrix slammed her hand against the wood floor.

“Is this what I’ve come to?” She hissed.

The snake ring had vanished and left a large black snake tattoo curled around her hand and wrist. It wiggled happily as it blinked at her, and then slithered up her sleeve as she slammed her fist down again.

Footsteps approached as a man came down a dingy staircase, bringing a ray of bright sunlight down with him. The man clinked while he walked, a sword and other various metals bumped together and fell into rhythm with his feet. He stopped at the base of the stairs.

“You’re awake,” he said, his young chipper voice giving away his age even if his skin was weathered tan by the sun.

Bellatrix got up, stumbled, and sat back onto the crate. She clutched her wand close. Her teeth hurt as she ground them together, holding her tongue in place. With the surroundings unknown, location unknown, enemies could be all around. This man before her had a naive aura about him, or was that simply his complexion?  

“Bad luck bringing a woman aboard,” he said as he approached, a friendly but cautious smile on his face. “But you would have drowned otherwise.”

She caught him in her grip, stabbing her wand to his throat, clutching him close enough she could hear his small breaths. He held up his hands in surrender, though a chuckle broke out. Bellatrix poked her wand harder against his neck. This man had no idea who she was nor what power she held. “ _So, captured by muggles,_ ” she thought.

“Miss, please,” he laughed.

Before she could say the killing curse, there was a boom, the ship rocked, knocking them apart. A bludger sized object flew through the wall, slammed into the man, knocking him backward.

Bellatrix blinked rapidly trying to absorb what just happened. His body lay across the room battered and bloodied by the object. Then she peered outside the hole in the wall to be smacked in the face by sea water. She spat out the salty liquid and wiped it from her eyes. Across the way, there was a ship with a black hull and sails firing onto the vessel she was on.

There was another loud boom, and she recoiled back as more bludger objects hit into the hull.

Bellatrix examined the room with a spellbook’s worth of curses ready to fall from her lips. It was barren of any exit save for the stairs. Horrible clangs and booms echoed down the entrance, as well as approaching footfalls. Two men appeared armed to the teeth with weapons she didn’t recognize and swords.

She snapped her wand up, “Avada Kedavra!”

A green light jetted out of her wand but merely licked the man’s skin like a flame before dispersing. The killing curse had no effect, and the two men smiled, wickedness oozing from them, muttering to each other. Their accents were familiar but not placeable.

Bellatrix threw a few more dark curses their way as she retreated. They hit, leaving deep cuts, yet the men stalked forward. Both men inched closer, toying with her. Whatever scare tactic they were employing didn’t work. She was better than whatever the muggles could do.

Bellatrix was cornered with no line of escape. Both men were blocking her exit, and the taller of the two overpowered her. Her wand hand was grabbed and painfully squeezed, and she was yanked forward. A dull pain hit the back of her head. Though used to pain, it dazed her enough she couldn’t focus, yet not knocking her out completely. The sounds of the chaos above filtered down. They dragged Bellatrix up and through it without care. She fought, of course; filthy muggles shouldn’t have such control over her. Her struggles were for naught as they carried her up and out of the darkness of the room.

The sun shined bright, and it illuminated the chaos around. Fighting was going on, but it was metal against metal instead of the crackling of clashing spells. It called to her, the chaos, and she writhed in her captor’s arms, clawing for her freedom. Her breath quickened. _Out._ She needed _OUT!_

Magic crackled around Bellatrix. Whatever spell her magic tried to protect her with fell useless against the men, but wood below them charred with her magical energy.

She was dragged across a loose bridge and thrown against the floor. Her head cracked against it, and for a second she saw black spots. Vision blurred, she could only vaguely make out the men surrounding her. Somehow she could see the dark color of this ship’s deck, and ratty torn black sails hanging above, floating by ropes and gusts of wind.

“We said no prisoners. What happened to you two?” said a deep masculine voice.

Someone kicked her in the shoulder, pressing their heel into her pressure point. “She has magic. Strong like the captain’s.”

Bellatrix growled, shoving the person’s foot away. She flattened onto her back, staring up at the blue sky. It was the first time she’d seen a clear sky in years. What beauty, not a cloud in it, but smoke rose from the other ship blocking the view.

“She did that to you?”

The men about her were still deliberating on her fate. Bellatrix closed her eyes. Tired, disoriented, she just wanted a moment of peace. A sharp pain throbbed in her ribs, shooting her eyes open, and she was forced onto her side by a kick.

“Get up!” the man above her yelled.

Another piped up. “I’ll get the captain.”

“Where am I?” Bellatrix hissed. She pushed herself up onto her knees while ignoring the throbbing in her skull. One man put his hand firmly on her shoulder, holding her in place. She ripped herself from his stubby fingers. “Filthy muggle,” she spat.

The man slapped her, and she tasted iron.

“I said no prisoners. Are you too daft to follow cap’ns orders, hm?” a gravely masculine voice said. It was familiar.

She wracked her brain trying to place where she’d heard it. Close, the sound was close to home. It felt like home.

Bellatrix had to squint with the sun so brightly lighting the sky. A man stood tall before her in blues and greys, with a ridiculously large feathered hat. A scar rode down one blue eye and his pale, aristocratic features. The closer she inspected, the more she felt she knew this man.

 _Home,_ was the only word would come to mind. Black Manor…

_“Dad punished me again! I can’t help that I got so focused! I may have not slept for a few days, but I was busy mastering my new wand!” Bellatrix looked up at the portrait on the wall. A man with blue eyes, a beard, and a funny hat frowned._

_He softened his eyes as he looked at her. He must have been taking pity on her. Bellatrix stomped her foot and turned her head from him. She didn’t need his sympathy._

_“You must have done more than simply not sleep. Praytell, my niece, I suspect ye did something more.”_

_Bellatrix toyed with her hair, eyes scanning the room, to look anywhere but the portrait. “I screamed at him. I broke his wand. He was mean to me. He threatened Andy. He made me angry,” she hummed. “And then I didn’t sleep for a few days trying to be stronger.”_

_“You seem calm now,” the portrait said. “It’s a shame what my descendant be doing to ye.”_

_“I’ll be angry again. Even if not because of daddy. Right now I’m calm, but I’ll be sad and angry again in no time…”_

The memory faded. Bellatrix glared up at him. “Corvus Black,” fell from her lips. He looked just like his portrait in Black Manor. _But how?_

“It’s Barbossa now,” he said with a fit of haughty arrogance. “Hector Barbossa.” He gave a little performance bow. “But who’s asking, if I may?”

Bellatrix stood quickly, regretting it instantaneously. Her head rushed. She thrusted her wand in front of her, but the world rocked and spun, knocking her thinking around in her skull.

Barbossa rolled his eyes expertly like every other Black. “Your name, miss.” His hand rested on the hilt of something.

She calculated her odds of winning a fight best she could. She had zero chance if her magic did not work on whoever these men were. She backed up before losing her balance and falling to her knees.

“Bellatrix… Black.” She inhaled, feeling overwhelmed and her body revolting against all her quick, harsh movement. The sun blared down too intensely and forced her to avert her eyes. “I’m your niece.” It wasn’t a lie. Somewhere in her ancestry a Corvus Black, who looked and sounded the same, existing as her uncle.

She hoped him recognizing her surname would spare her an ill fate.

“You’re nearly, what, fifty? I highly doubt that missy.”

Or not.

“Forty-four,” Bellatrix growled. She peered up, shielding her eyes, and if it wasn’t Narcissa’s eyes staring back at her. “I’m telling the truth.” She slammed her fist against the wood. A groan escaped her, and she slammed her fist repeatedly until it was bleeding.

There was no reaction from the surrounding people. Bellatrix stared at her bloody knuckles, huffed, anger dispelled and soothed, though anxiety of her grave situation crept back into her spine.

“May we speak privately,” Bellatrix ground. She tried to stand on her wobbled legs. No one could see her so weak, especially not muggles.

Barbossa pondered over the thought while keeping a close eye on her. He motioned for her to follow him, his hand resting on the handle of a slender object. Bellatrix did, keeping a wary eye on his weapons, and they entered a cabin of the ship.

Barbossa pushed her back against the wall, aiming a barreled object at her face. “Now, you best be telling me who you are. Really are.”

She smacked it out of her view and crossed her arms defiantly. “I told you. I’m your niece.” He didn’t look convinced as he brought the object back, clicking it, and aiming. “You have magic, so said those stupid muggles, then you’d know about time magic. I’m from the future, and I want to get back.” She smacked him back and away from her. “You’ll help me get there. I have a war to win.”

“The future, you say.” He didn’t bring down the object, but he relaxed as he mulled over the thought.

She scanned him. “What are you pointing at me, some muggle device? You’re a wizard.” She forced it out of her face again. “And why did my curses not kill your men. It bloody well should have!”

He kept the object lowered, blue eyes peering out at her, and he let out an awkward chuckle. “Well, that be a tale not worth hearing. Not unless you bargain for it.”

She ground her teeth and locked her jaw. “Bargained with what? My life? I already have a Master who owns it.”

Barbossa smirked. “No. Your magic.” He crept closer and snatched her wand from her clutches and rolled it in his hands. “Powerful wand for a powerful witch.”

Bellatrix lunged at him, but he easily pushed her off and back against the wall. “Spit it out, what the bloody hell do you want with me?”

He kept her pinned to the wall, and her breathing quickened with passing seconds, her body already overextended and tired.

“I be needing your services as a witch. My magic was stolen from me, and I want it back. Too long have I gone without the means of living, and what is a wizard without magic. I’m already dying of starvation and thirst, but I be craving the thrill of spells slung at my enemies. A Black without magic is a disgrace. Would you suffer your kin that fate?”

Bellatrix quirked a brow. So much of what he said made no sense. How could he be dying of thirst and starvation, yet stand here before her? “What’s it in for me?” She asked cautiously. Her eyes darted around the room looking for an exit, but how far could she really get in the middle of the ocean.

Barbossa unsheathed his sword, pushing the blade into her throat. “Your life to start with, miss.” He gazed over her features. “Once my curse is lifted, I’ll send you back to your master, that be if you survive the life of a pirate.” He pulled away. “Do we have an accord?”

Bellatrix collapsed as he moved away. She caught his arm, gripping it tightly. “Agreed.” She fell to her knees, her body unable to go on. “Fuck!” She slammed her damaged knuckles on the floor.

Barbossa kneeled down, giving her a curious glance. “What be the problem?”

She ground her teeth together. _Should I tell him… I used to tell his portrait everything. Would this be any different?_ Being weak was wrong around Narcissa. She was the big sister, invulnerable, invincible, the caretaker, but this was different. She needed care as much as she hated admitting it—Barbossa being the only family she had now.

Bellatrix pushed herself up the wall. “I rotted away for years in prison.” Her voice refused to escape her throat. “It’s damaged me.” Foul words for a foul situation. How she hated admitting it. Her stomach knotted, the swaying of the ship worsening the sickness feeling.

“Imprisoned for what charge?” He asked as he helped her stand. His grip on her arms was tight. “Some petty thief are we?”

Bellatrix couldn’t hold back a cackle. It boomed into the room and threw him off for only a moment. “Murder, torture, whatever my Master needed for his war, I happily gave him.”

His smirk returned, and he let his grip go while resting her against the wall. “You’ll adjust well to my crew. Talents like yours be needed.”

She stumbled over to the roundtable centered in the cabin, grabbing her wand back, and sat in a chair propping her feet up, sighing in pleasure at sitting down. A small monkey she hadn’t noticed jumped down from its perch and strutted over to see her. He poked her nose and chirped, clapping his hands together.

Bellatrix rested her head in her hands. “Once I’m stronger, I’ll help you break your curse.”

He clapped his hands onto her shoulders. She peered at him from behind her mess of hair. “Welcome to the Caribbean, Bellatrix,” Barbossa said with a glint of playfulness in his eye and voice. “And welcome to the crew of the _Black Pearl_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the great responses I've gotten from this fic on here and tumblr. It's much appreciated.


	3. Take What You Can, Give Nothin' Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PIRATE!BELLATRIX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so this update has taken forever because my beta jumped ship (ha pirate pun), I've struggled to find someone new, I had about a month of really bad health, and so the quality probably isn't as good. I'm trying to edit and do this own my own now. I have grammarly but that only goes so far and I have the editing skills of a third grader. SO I am so sorry for all the mistakes in this chapter because there are probably a lot.
> 
> Also, Syd isn't an original character. I looked for his name and honestly, it was too confusing to figure out if it was his name or position in the crew so now his name is Syd.
> 
> Content Warnings: There is alcohol, murder, and mental health things (like suicidal thoughts) in this chapter. A minor mention/hint to gender stuff.

**Part One: By Blood And Curses**

* * *

 

_One Month Since Arrival_

Pain. Her muscles ached like liquid fire coursed through them. A cruciatus curse would be merciful at this point. She existed in constant pain. Moving felt like grinding her bones against each other. Bellatrix had barely left the small cabin she was given. Walking was still an issue, and the rocking of the _Pearl_ was less than helpful. Occasionally she’d catch herself at the door, looking out to the crew, and at night they’d transform into skeletons by bath of moonlight. That explained why the killing curse didn’t affect them. They’re already dead. 

The captain was still sparse on details of the curse or his life unless in a failed attempt of fear mongering. Barbossa was a strange man in that he was a cruel but also gentlemen. He treated her like his own when it suited him. He’d taken the time to care for Bellatrix, trying his best to find foods she could stomach and having special meals made. She still hadn't eaten much of anything. Her weak and feeble body refused to function more than simply existing. 

The toll of Azkaban bore down upon Bellatrix like the impending doom of that stormy horizon.

* * *

The sea had ruined her black dress and leather corset. It's water damaged the fabric, and it was entirely too thick to wear amongst the Caribbean heat. Bellatrix was given a chest of clothes to try, but she wouldn't ask from where. She merely nodded to Barbossa as he dropped it off. 

The entire chest was of men's clothing and Bellatrix ruffled through it, finding the lightest fabrics she could. She grabbed her wand and summoned a magic mirror for her to gaze at as she changed. She pulled out a grey shirt with thin and breathable fabric and strung it on her body. It was big on her thin frame, but she tucked it into the black trousers she found. A green vest caught her eye as well. The colors were close enough to be Slytherin Pride, so she decided on that. 

Looking in the mirror and wearing these closes, oddly felt comfortable, and not because her skin could breathe again. Bellatrix cracked a smile at herself. She definitely looked the part of a pirate, but something else she couldn't name was there too. Maybe she'd just gone mad with the heat. There was no way a change of clothes could make her feel this good about herself? Perhaps it was how easily they hid her scars and fragile frame. It had to be that. Bellatrix decided that was it. Though she felt out of place without her corset binding her chest.

She also chose a long coat and hung it over the end of the pallet she slept on. It was black and green as well. Barbossa soul read her favorite color schemes. Or maybe it was left over from his days in Europe and Hogwarts before he was chased out for being the supposedly powerful dark wizard he claims to be. Either way, she was set to dress, play her part until she can break Barbossa’s curse, and get home to her Master. Hopefully, it wouldn't take terribly long. The fear of what would happen to her family lingered in her mind. The Dark Lord would not suffer dissertation, that was to be put on her family instead.

* * *

  _Four Months Since Arrival_

Lugging ropes across deck was not entertaining, but it needed to be done. It was a quick way to break her muscles so she would heal and become stronger. Coiling up the pile of ropes was equally tedious and exhausting. 

Bellatrix worked all day by Barbossa’s orders. It seemed the moment he deemed her healthy enough to stand, she was healthy enough for labor. 

He'd stand at the helm and ever so often his eyes fell off the horizon and watched her work. He’d always have his eyes carefully on her. Bellatrix had the ill fate of meeting his gaze when she had to take a break or risk collapsing. His watchful glare pulled out an anxiety in her she’d long forgotten and ignored. 

Bellatrix wrapped her blistered, cracked hands as she caught his gaze again. She hated it so much. Barbossa was just waiting for her to screw up. She worked as perfectly as she could for him, just waiting for him to be unsatisfied and cruel about it. He had the same gaze as her father, and it stung ice down her spine.

She worked even as her body protested, but at least she was getting stronger.

The grip of Azkaban was lessened but still chained her as evidenced by the rough red scars on her wrist.

* * *

_Seven Months Since Arrival_

Bellatrix learned the basics of swordsmanship and was decent. It was useful having undead pirates as her dummies. Any amount of techniques she could attempt, execute perfectly, and not have to worry that her partner would die. 

She was taught how to fire a gun for the first time by Ragetti. Bellatrix didn't know if she hated it. It was powerful, like a spell, and gave her the same rush as casting the killing curse. A gun had the same effect as well, just spitting fire and metal from her arm instead of a green jet of light. The loud echoing noise from it though, somehow, haunted her. Muggles had more power than she realized, but that power was now also hers, as it should be. 

Woe fell upon the settlements they plundered and raided, as Bellatrix Black found a new chaotic appetite she must sate. A pirate’s life wasn't as bad as she initially expected. In fact, she fell quite comfortable into the routines, destruction, treasures, and most importantly the freedom.

Bellatrix drank her sorrows away while aboard. There was barrels of un-drank rum and wine, as the curse complicated their consumption. It was all fine by her account, more to drown herself in when she began to think of her Master, her sisters, her life she’d been ripped from. 

Killing and drinking was the routine she found herself in. She cut down anyone in her path. She was a devil woman indeed—which is what everyone came to know her by— _Devil Black_. She quite liked the name. It was better than Bellatrix Lestrange any day, and it let small innocent and weak Bellatrix Black remain in her past.  

* * *

Bellatrix didn’t care much for divination class back at Hogwarts, but scrying was the only useful skill to come from it. She sat cross-legged in her magically expanded cabin, wand out, with a map in front of her. She’d done this time and time again for Barbossa now, hunting down his cursed gold with magic. Wisps of green magic escaped the tip of her wand and swirled in the air as she tried to connect to the world around her. It traced the lines across the map before condensing in beacons dotting along on a small island not too far from their current heading. 

She hopped up, grabbing the map, and her effects from the side table. She’d grown attached her swords and pistols out of necessity. Most muggles laughed when she pointed a wand at them, but they cower before a gun or sword. They were security measures, but also gave her a new sense of power. The options at her disposal were appetizing, and somehow there was satisfaction she never imagined when she cut someone down with a sword. 

Bellatrix’s tucked her wand into her holder on her leg as she strapped the muggle weapons to her. She traveled out to the helm, showing the captain and navigator the location of the nearest gold pieces. 

“These are the ones in range.” She dropped the map with the glowing dots down before Barbossa. Her back rested against the top railing as he looked it over. 

He pushed the navigator from his post and took the helm himself, veering the _Pearl_ to change course. Bellatrix watched the sea, and Barbossa’s eye kept drifting back to her, but she didn’t care. Yes, he reminded her of Cygnus in many respects, but he was an upgrade nonetheless. No amount of tension between them could erase that Barbossa cared for her more than Cygnus ever did. 

Her fingers drummed against the wooden railing. Odd how a ship in a different time felt more like home than Black Manor ever did. _The Black Pearl, how I love you so._

She was free to do as she pleased and that suited Bellatrix quiet well.

* * *

_Nine Months Since Arrival_

The night was young, and Bellatrix stalked the sands of Tortuga’s beach, enjoying the crashing waves and the glittering moonlight across them. With a bottle of rum in her hand, she headed to the local tavern. Barbossa let her go off on her own in need of a minor respite from a crew who she couldn’t maim. Most of the crew respected her, but they wallowed too much in how she couldn’t touch them and had no consequences to their annoying habits. 

The chaos of the pirate town had only increased as the sun rested past the horizon to sleep. Bellatrix kept an eye out for those who wouldn’t catch their coin purses missing. Surrounded by the scum and criminals of the Caribbean, she never was more at home. 

She took a swig of her drink and bumped into a drunkard. Her hand slipped into his pocket, and with magic, she removed his coin pouch with ease. Bellatrix gave a look back to him, and his filthy figure was pathetically stumbling about the streets. It would’ve been a mercy killing at the least. Bellatrix took another sip and shook the purse when no one was looking. 

The clinking of the shillings in it wasn’t too loud, but loud enough. “Perfect.”

Another man bumped into her, nearly topping her over, and he grabbed her breast. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, and his groan of annoyance gave her a headache. Bellatrix took a dagger from her boot as she pushed him off, deftly stabbing it into his gut. The knife twisted in place and she dropped him to her ground, squishing his face deep into the dirt road. 

“Codpiss,” she mumbled before kicking him one last time. 

* * *

_One Year Since Arrival_

“To the boats!” Barbossa’s commanding voice rang. Bellatrix already conjured a fog to mask the _Black Pearl_ as they approached Port Royal. 

“Pintel! Ragetti! You, idiots, are with me,” she growled. Her hand rested on the hilt of her cutlass, a new habit she’d developed over the last year. Bellatrix waited in a boat, tapping her leather boots impatiently, as the two she called for finally got in. 

“Took you long enough,” she barked. 

Two lost puppies at sea, and she had to be the one to babysit them. Ragetti kept a wooden eye as he'd lost one of his originals and Pintel sat hunched, ragged, and bald. They were idiots, yes, but they had a ruthlessness she admired. 

The boat lurched as she cut the line. “Sit down and row,” she ordered them.

Pintel grumbled, but a quick glance shut him up. Some didn't take kindly to Bellatrix being Barbossa’s favorite, but Ragetti didn’t seem to mind. Pintel, on the other hand, found it funny. It didn't take long for their familial relationship to get around even if the generation gap was left out. Some crew thought their relationship made him favor her. What they failed to realize is how lucky they were to be cursed with undeath; otherwise, she'd kill them for looking at her wrong. Which to her annoyance, they often did. 

Bellatrix pulled her hair back with a green cloth. Her black curls still falling on her face and sticking to her forehead adhered by sweat and water splashing on her. Anticipation buzzing in her skin, waiting for the fun to start. 

“Pintel, any sense on the gold?” Her eyes stayed forward watching for the British Navy. Hopefully, the _Pearl_ firing upon the fort would be enough to draw them away from town. She didn’t know how, but the cursed could sense out the gold coins at close range. This curse broke so many magic laws and acted strangely.

Pintel’s gravelly voice piped up, “Inland,” he paused focusing. “Near there.” His finger pushed past her pointing to a mansion towering over the small port. 

“That's where we hit.” Bellatrix drew her sword and hopped out of the boat, the sea water splashing at her knees. “Kill whoever gets in your way.” 

Other groups had already gotten to town and were wreaking sweet mayhem upon the muggles. She nodded for the idiots to follow her and made way to the main road if you could call it a road.  

Bellatrix stalked the streets, slashing down men who came too close. Her blade was happily soaked in blood halfway through the village. She made a point to use her smoke form to hop across the streets and cut her victims off from their path of escape. She’d push into their space too, consuming the air around them before reforming, and killing them. She stood over a smaller man if she could call him that. He was nearly a boy with a dirty face and clothes. Bellatrix cocked her head and pouted. This human wasn’t much fun. She pulled her sword back to strike, to have it deflected by a young blonde man, say in his thirties. 

She forced him back, jamming him against a shop’s windows, shattering it. He hopped back up and swung. He was skilled in their exchange, but Bellatrix was sly in her movements, eventually pinning him to the building. She cut him down with ease. She twisted the blade in his gut before wrenching it out, a wicked smile on her lips. 

The adrenaline pumped through her veins. Fighting, aggression, battle, was always her home, and honestly, swordplay was exhilarating. It gave her a sense of artistry magic couldn’t. With a sword, she acted on her devilish instincts and carved the world to be her bloody vision.

Ragetti pulled her away from her kill, and she swiped at him. 

“Gold is definitely at the mansion.” He said, tugging her along. The way their curse was still a mystery to her, but Bellatrix didn’t have the energy to question the strange magic.

She paused and rummaged through the man’s pockets. Bellatrix kicked him onto his side and retrieved a bag, happy to hear the clicking of shillings inside it. 

“Mansion,” the Ragetti yelled. He was paces away urging her to follow. Bellatrix rolled her eyes and did. 

The muggles avoided them as the three made way to the mansion. Most of the folk were dead or came to their senses to hide. 

Pintel knocked on the big green doors, laughing to himself, and cocking his pistol. She could hear the approaching clicks of boots to marble from behind it. A familiar noise from her youth. From the regular spacing of the steps, she'd say the person was oblivious to the threat. Bellatrix pulled out her gun and cocked it, aiming at what she assumed was average head height. The moment the door swung open, she pulled the trigger, and the servant fell dead. 

Bellatrix bit back a comment about how amazingly barbaric guns were, and instead cackled with glee as she caught the noise of a woman of an undoubtedly regal position running atop the steps. “Up there! Get her!” Bellatrix smacked her two lackeys on the back, urging them to follow. Then she dispatched another servant in her way. 

Noises of a confrontation from the noblewoman and Ragetti echoed down the stairs. Bellatrix formed into smoke and zoomed through the halls looking for the dark-blonde woman.

Pintel and Ragetti were trying to bust through double doors when she reformed. 

“Move!” she yelled. Both jumped out of the way at her command as she blasted the doors open with _bombarda maxima._

The doors flew off their hinges and splintered allowing them entrance. Bellatrix stepped in first looking for possible exits. There was a window, but a quick glance down proved the woman couldn't make it out without a broken bone or two. 

“Little dove,” Bellatrix called. She paced around the room, picking up various objects for inspection to then throw, listening for any reactions. “Little doveling, you can come out now, and I'll only hurt you a little. Or leave me to hunt, and you'll die too slowly.” 

Pintel and Ragetti snickered, grins across their faces, enjoying her mocking words. Pintel joined in the play when Ragetti pointed to the closet mouthing the word _gold_. 

Bellatrix glanced down and smirked at the upturned rug corner right in front of the closet. She stalked over like a viper ready to strike, wand and gun held loosely in her hands, prepared to attack. 

“Little doveling,” she cooed to the closet door. She could vaguely see the light reflecting off something. It was an eye. “Why do you hide,” she cackled pulling open the door. Her wand at the ready to kill the woman. Finally, she'd be closer to getting home once they had the last piece of treasure.

“Parley!” The blonde yelled as a gun and wand were shoved in her face. 

“Bloody hell!” A headache bloomed in her skull. Of course, that was too easy. _This was going so smoothly!_ Bellatrix rolled her eyes and tucked her wand into her holder. 

The woman rambled, “According to the code set down by—”

“We know the code,” Pintel said, effectively shutting her up, or maybe it was the death stare Bellatrix threw her.

“You want to be taken to the captain, fine,” Bellatrix growled. Gods she hated the pirate code. The bits she knew, it only complicated things. _Life would be simpler if you just killed people!_ She glared at the young woman. Once Bellatrix had her attention, she spoke in a forced calm. “You will do so quietly and without a fuss. So help me, I will pretend I never heard Parley escape your lips.” Bellatrix cocked her gun, fitting it nicely under the woman’s chin, the threats easily displayed between them and a scowl on her lips. She said slowly, “Understood?” 

The woman nodded violently, either in fear or pride in herself. Bellatrix caught eye of a gold chain around her neck. She ignored personal space, and took the medallion into her fingers, rubbing them against the ridges of it. _So bloody close._ The young blonde slapped her hand away. Bellatrix exhaled angrily at her. 

She pulled the girl’s hair, so they locked eyes. “Careful doveling,” Bellatrix hissed. “Do not play with me.” Bellatrix slammed the woman into the back wall of the closet. A curse was ready on her lips, but Ragetti stopped her. 

“Parley,” he reminded her.  

Bellatrix groaned and begrudgingly let the woman go. The two men with her took point and the woman far ahead of Bellatrix, as she couldn't stop her hateful glares.

* * *

Syd stopped Bellatrix as she climbed aboard, his umber skin and gold piercings shining in the half moonlight. He extended his hand and pulled her to her feet. Pintel, Ragetti, and their captive followed. 

The captive immediately jumped into action when she was aboard. Walking right up to Bellatrix and demanding things. She had half a mind to just kill the woman now, even though she very well knew she shouldn't.

“Where is your captain? Let me speak to him—Get off me!” She slapped Ragetti’s hand off her arm. “Witch! Get your capt—”

Syd suddenly backhanded the woman. His deep pitched voice warning, “speak when told to.”

Bellatrix pinched the bridge of her nose. Her headache grew. Then she laid a hand on Syd’s arm, gripping it tightly. “Thank you,” Bellatrix sighed. “If the doveling does not stay quiet, the captain might not ever hear of how she so desperately called for a meeting. He may never know you existed in the first place.”

Ragetti held the woman back, looking around as if waiting. “But she's under the protection of Parley,” he added.

Syd and Bellatrix exchanged an annoyed glance. Bellatrix merely shrugged.

“Aye,” he ground out. 

His arm relaxed in Bellatrix's grip, and she moved to the woman. She caressed the girl’s cheek and smirked. “I'll get the captain. Behave yourself.” She let the unspoken threat linger in the air and left to find Barbossa. 

Bellatrix walked into the captain’s quarters angrily after kicking the doors open and vented, “I thought parley was only for pirates!”

Barbossa rose from his seat quickly at Bellatrix’s sudden outburst. “Who be using it? And for what purpose?”

“Some muggle women we found with the medallion. She wants to speak with you. But I want to hex her into the next century.” Bellatrix straightened her back as Barbossa gave her a cold glance. “She's alive. I have some self-control.” 

“You can have more fun later Bella. For now, she's under protection from the code, and for that, no harm shall come to her.” He stood, walked and tapped at her shoulders. “Body or mind.” Barbossa exited the cabin.

Bellatrix blinked and shivered, shaking away the cold feeling in her spine. 

The two of them walked to the deck to see the crew swarm around the young woman. “What be your reason for needing to be speaking with me,” Barbossa barked at the young woman. 

The woman put on a regal mask as she looked up to them, one Bellatrix remembered having to practice often as a child. 

“ _Look like you own the world and you will_ ,” Cygnus’ voice rang in her ears.

“I am here to negotiate you leaving Port Royal,” she said dryly. “Your devil woman there is a bad reflection of you, captain.”

Barbossa walked down the steps slowly to the woman’s level, it added a dramatic effect, and the woman backed up, bumping into the ship’s rail. He glanced back at Bellatrix, a wounded and furious look to his face. Bellatrix swallowed, and watched from above, keeping a close eye on the woman’s movements. She gripped her arms tightly, forcing the anger to stay below the surface, and buried the small stroke of fear crawling through her ribs. 

“Are you now,” he mocked. “What be your name miss?” He seemed to let the comment on his captain skills go unchecked, very unlike him.

Bellatrix watched as the woman’s demeanor shifted like a trapped animal. She tried to hide her eyes and look down. A false shame now painted the pale woman’s face. “Elizabeth… Turner. I'm a maid to the governor.” 

Bellatrix laughed. It echoed in the air and the tension only increased. It wasn't a comfortable sound. It crackled with madness. “You're a terrible liar you know?” 

Elizabeth looked up at Bellatrix with angry confusion. 

“If you're going to play servant don’t have that arrogant nobility on your face,” Bellatrix said stalking down to the deck. She pushed Barbossa aside and stepped into Elizabeth’s space. 

“I am not arrogant!” Elizabeth yelled back. Still, she tried to back up, unable to without falling overboard. 

Bellatrix rested her hand on the sword hilt as she spoke. “But you don't deny that regality and nobleness. So I repeat little doveling, you are a terrible liar.” Bellatrix was a good actress when needed. Anger and arrogance were her best masks to wear, especially when playing with prey like young Elizabeth. Weaponize the, and it can’t destroy her, let it destroy someone else.

“Now tell me why I shouldn't kill you and just take the bloody necklace,” she asked impatiently. 

Elizabeth stood quietly as Bellatrix inched closer and closer to her. The dark witch could nearly hear the panicked heartbeat trying to beat out of Elizabeth’s ribs. The sword now was drawn, and the blade pulling teasingly against the gold chain. “Do not leave me waiting little dove.”

“Because of the code,” the woman muttered. 

“They're more like guidelines as my dear captain would say.”

Elizabeth swallowed harshly. Her eyes darted around and looked for any way out. 

“You're trapped,” Bellatrix whispered. “No one to save you. Best you be a good little girl.” She made a noise that was a mixture of a cackle and chuckle. Elizabeth lost most of her color, save from some rose tinting on her cheeks. 

“I'll give you the necklace, I live, and you leave Port Royal never to return,” Elizabeth spat out and shoved Bellatrix away.

“Testy,” Bellatrix cooed before turning to look at Barbossa. “Them be acceptable terms captain?” 

“We have an accord,” he said with a devilish smirk. Barbossa nodded, and Bellatrix ripped the chain away with the sword, nicking Elizabeth's clavicle. Before the gold hit the deck, Jack the monkey swooped in and caught it, carrying it away and over to Barbossa. He ordered the crew around to prepare to leave, and Bellatrix watched horror take hold of Elizabeth’s face.

“You have to take me to shore!” She repeated, but Barbossa wasn't having it. 

Bellatrix grabbed the woman by her wrists. “Shut up already!”

“Bringing you to shore wasn't part of our agreement Elizabeth, and so, I must do nothing. Stop spitting lines memorized of the pirate code. As they apply to pirates which you, as clearly been pointed out, are not. Take her to your quarters, Bella.” 

Bellatrix nodded and pulled at Elizabeth, purposefully being rough. The woman fought, but she wasn't strong enough. “Let me go!” 

Ignoring the screams from Elizabeth, Bellatrix opened the door to her chamber next to the captain's quarters. Her room used to be what a cabin boy would use, small and useless, but an expansion charm made it more suitable for one’s stature like herself. She pushed Elizabeth in, and the woman fell to the floor. 

“Break anything, and I will break you.” Then she slammed the doors shut. A lasting impression of fear on Elizabeth’s face stung in her mind. It was beautiful.

* * *

The full moon basked its blue glow down upon the _Black Pearl_ , and so, it's crew were shown for their true misfortunes. Bellatrix sat leisurely along the railing like she always did, watching. Off and on they'd transform between fleshy beings and rotting, moving corpses. She didn't quite understand the curse, it broke one of those magical laws her mind filed away from school. But she supposed heathen gods weren’t bound by the same magical laws of mortals if gods of any sort even existed.

She still doubted their existence, sure the wizarding world used a polytheistic lexicon in expression, but she never believed in them. Truthfully, her life was too terrible for there to be a god, or gods, looking out for her. She wouldn't blame them for her misfortune, that belonged to a mortal or two. Revenge against them kept her blood flowing, and boiling. It cut a wound into her soul, and that pain is what kept her going. 

The sea air was calming. The fresh air nipped and stung at her skin. Bellatrix closed her eyes. _Jump overboard._ She hissed to herself. This was not the time for these thoughts. Why couldn’t they ever just leave her alone? It was too much when she was younger, and equally a problem now. _Stand up, and jump over._ For a moment, she considered it, feeling a falter in her in rageful mask, the sadness seeping through. Her head fell into her hands, and she cradled it, hoping it would just stop. She shook her head as it didn’t. _Why am I like this?_ A question she’s asked herself since she was small. 

“There a reason you’re thinking so loud?” Barbossa asked. He sounded calmer and gentler than usual. Gentle didn't suit his rough voice, not at all.

Bellatrix didn't reply immediately. She looked up and out to seemingly endless sea. She mused a bit longer, and her skin continuously heated. She could feel rage burn on her cheeks while she tightened her fingers around her scarred wrists. 

“Bella,” Barbossa said. 

“Angry thoughts. Plotting. Murder. The usual.”

Barbossa tipped his head towards his cabin. “Let's talk. Give you a drink.”

Bellatrix stared at him, and her anger pointed at him, even if he didn’t deserve it. He was always looking out for her even when she knew he shouldn't. Though they didn’t always get along, and moments she wished he was mortal again. Other times she was grateful for someone to remotely care. It was a strange push and pull that never snapped in half, but always came close to severing.

His skeletal arm grabbed her kindly and pulled her to his cabin. The moment they were inside Barbossa grabbed a bottle of rum and thrust it into her hands. “You need it more than I do,” he said with a hint of disdain. “Being damned is something I’ll never get used to.”

Bellatrix uncorked it with her teeth and drank from it greedily. She quite liked the hazy feeling because it blocked out everything else. She lazily sat in a chair, ignoring her proper posture even though her parents’ voices nagged in the back of her head. 

Barbossa watched her, and she drank. The silence that filled the room was uncomfortable, and Bellatrix squirmed under its pressure, readjusting herself in her seat five times before giving up. There was no comfortable position when someone is staring at you.

“What do you want,” she groaned.

He smirked at his victory before sitting across from her and stroked little Jack’s head.

“Let me preface. You be ruthless like myself. I'm very proud of you, and not just ‘cause we be blood tied. Piracy is what you were born for Bellatrix.”

“Charming words,” she spat. Praise before insults. Her spine and bones began to ache with memories of Cygnus. 

“I simply am worried. I expect obedience, and our shared blood has left room for leniency, but do not take advantage of my generosity.”

Bellatrix sat up and raised an eyebrow. “Is this about Elizabeth?”

Barbossa watched her a bit longer, pondering his next words. The monkey now roamed around the table and found Bellatrix’s shoulder. He was cute but a trickster. Jack the monkey nuzzled himself against her as if he could sense her emotional duress.

“It is. You need to learn to control yourself. I can’t have you slandering my name as a captain.” He stood and made his way to her. Bellatrix trembled until his hand touched her shoulder, steadying her, if only for a moment.

She didn't respond to Barbossa or when he left to return to the deck. She didn't move. Bellatrix sat in silence. Her mind reeling over how she shouldn't believe him. No one could control her, not herself, not Barbossa, no one except The Dark Lord, but she let him. Control was a chain only her Master could hold on her and not another man. Barbossa was simply another man. 

She stood, and the chair toppled behind her. She didn't care. Bellatrix focused her breath, but it was useless. Her inhales and exhales were sharp like a blade. She stormed out of the captain's cabin to find her own. 

She didn't listen to hear from Elizabeth. Bellatrix burst in it like she owned the world and spotted the woman sitting on her bed. Elizabeth stood quickly at Bellatrix entering and asked something, but she didn't hear. Her face distorted into fear as Bellatrix stalked towards her. She back up until she hit the wall, still pushing backward. Bellatrix planted both her arms to either side of Elizabeth’s head. She could feel her pulse boom through her body. She reeled her fist back and hit it into the wall, mere inches from Elizabeth’s cheek. 

“If you want to survive, pretty thing, get out.” She growled.

Elizabeth ducked and swooped out of the room. She punched the wall once more. It splintered against her fist, and the pain grounded her in the moment. The red lens that clouded her vision lessened. Bellatrix forced her breathing to slow and controlled. That control would only last so long before she let the monster loose. It was clawing its way out, and Bellatrix would no longer fight her emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY MOTHER FUCKING PIRATE BELLATRIX.
> 
> Please if you comment on any chapter, please comment on this one. Tell me what you think of Pirate Bellatrix. PLEASE.


	4. Fury of Devil Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel guilty for taking so long to update, so you get a double update today. Again I edited it myself and so mistakes are in there that I missed. I am so sorry.
> 
> Content Warning: Anger, hints of abuse, alcohol, minor violence, gender dysphoria

**Part One: By Blood And Curses**

* * *

 

Another loud boom erupted in her expanded chamber. The desk, table, and chairs were broken and splintered. Their debris littered the floor along with papers, maps, and what treasure Bellatrix kept for herself. The bed was overturned even though it was bolted to the floor after her last rageful episode. Though that was how it always went. Anger and sadness, but cloak the sadness with more rage. Push it all away and then break it into pieces. Tears were threatening to spill over. She aggressively wiped her eyes, clawing her nose as she did. 

Her room was locked shut from the outside, so no amount of unlocking charms seemed to work to get her out. She was trapped—confined like a caged animal—in a sort of time out. Bellatrix didn’t know what caused her to explode again, but every glance from Barbossa sparked a rage to boil within.

She had no control, no bloody control over anything. It was a wonder she wasn’t always wrecking her room or hadn’t blown a hole in the hull yet. There were no choice, only obedience, and orders. With the Dark Lord, Bellatrix had options. She was valued as an asset. Here, no, Barbossa ordered her around and expected her to follow like a stupid pup. Bellatrix hated him, she blasted a spell at her bed, setting the wood to have small embers smoldering within its frame. 

She hated mother for sending her back to this time, for no bloody reason. Why? What could this possibly have a use for? She was separated from everyone she cared about: Narcissa, Draco, and most importantly the Dark Lord. What sick game was Druella playing? Bellatrix didn’t belong here. No matter how much she loved the feeling of freedom to a point, how she loved the sea and sailing it, the lawless killing with no consequences—she didn’t belong. Whatever freedom she could gain here, Barbossa squandered it and crushed it under his command. 

Deep in her heart, she wanted to go home, but deeper still fought to stay. “I don’t belong here!” She kicked a chair over and snapped it. Then she kicked the door, mumbling curses under her heavy breath, and the anger seeping out her pores. 

Barbossa locked her in, thinking she’d be a danger to precious Elizabeth. If he only knew what her rage could really do. Bellatrix glanced about the destroyed chamber. At least she could have some control over what she destroyed. 

Her breath heaved in and out of her chest, constricted. The blood pumped through her body rapidly, and the headache matched its fast beat. Her head throbbed, and it was like it was being split open. She let out an angry sigh before giving up her tantrum and falling to the floor exhausted. The redness tinting her view dissipated and the world turned back to its bleak grime-coated filter.

Then the door opened slightly, and Ragetti popped in his miserable little head. 

“What do you want?” Bellatrix laid back against the floor, taking a deep breath, and letting her limbs rest. 

He opened the door a little more and walked in. “Cap’n wants you in his quarters.”

She covered her eyes with her arm, sighing, and praying her headache would soothe. “What does he need? Surely he doesn’t need me. Get Syd or someone else to do whatever he wants.”

He shifted around, kicking at the debris strewn across the floors. “He’s concerned and all. Never seen ‘im so worked up over someone before.”

Bellatrix stood and crossed her arms. “Piss off one-eye.” Her feet stung as she shifted her weight. A quick glance down, and she was standing in shattered glass—not sure where it even came from. The adrenaline from her rage still pumped through her and lessened the pain. She dreaded when it would fully wear off. 

Ragetti pulled out his pistol, cocking it and aiming it at her. “He told me to do this. I quite like you, but he said his quarters, now.” He rubbed his wooden eye, wincing as he did.  

_And I'm supposed to find this a caring gesture, ey Barbossa?_ She pushed past him, shoving Ragetti into the wall. “Point that at me again, and I will end you when the curse is lifted.” Bellatrix slapped his face playful and threw him a grin, which he returned with a nervous laugh. 

Without caution or care Bellatrix bust through the doors to the captain’s quarters. “What in the bloody hell do you want!” Her yell came out strangled and hoarse. Scanning the room, she quirked a brow at Elizabeth sitting at the round table in an elegant and becoming red dress, dining with Barbossa. “Hello, what do we have here?” 

“A bit of a meal for an honored guest,” Barbossa said, handing a goblet to Elizabeth, a pleasant smile on his face. 

Elizabeth stared at him, switching between the gracious meal, her, and Barbossa. “Honored guest? You mean captive. I gave you your trinket. What value do I possibly have left to you?” Her eyes fell onto Bellatrix, a strange pout on her lips. 

Bellatrix straightened her back, reminding herself that she’s far too old for Elizabeth, not to mention she’s a lowly muggle, and sat at the table, picking an apple from the array of dishes. She crunched down on it and twisted sideways in her seat. “Yes, what value is she to you?” Bellatrix kept her eyes on Elizabeth and took another bite. Then she winked. Her cheek stung as she did. Bellatrix brought her fingers up to her cheek and across her nose. A quick glance at her fingertips, and she scowled.  They were red and wet with her own blood. _Must have done something… Explains the look on Elizabeth’s face._

She pulled out her wand and casts a healing spell to scar the cuts over. “How do I look?” Bellatrix felt the scar over her nose. It ran cheek to cheek, and was raised, probably was a deep gash. _More scars…_ Another bite into the apple and she was done. She could hardly stomach food still. 

Bellatrix smirked. “Not hungry little dove?”

Elizabeth glanced around the room like a trapped animal, made eye contact with her, and then looked at the food. She swallowed. “I’m fairly sure it’s poisoned. Why else would you have not killed me yet?” 

“Yes, why haven’t we killed her yet,” Bellatrix teased, grinning. She winked at Elizabeth again. “Oh come now. Why expect any different from me?” She gave her a look that reminded Bellatrix of Andromeda, and for the first time in years, she had a flash of memory of Andy, and a dreadful feeling in the pit of her stomach. Barbossa put up a hand. “Enough Bella. Miss Elizabeth here is very important.” He picked up the medallion off the table and rubbed it in his hands. “This is no mere trinket. It’s Aztec Gold. Cursed Aztec gold. Found by Cortez but then stricken by the heathen gods to punish him for his greed.”

Bellatrix reached across the table, taking Elizabeth’s goblet and drinking its contents down. “How fun. A ghost story.” She played with the cup, not really paying attention. Her eyes traveled back to Elizabeth, watching her reactions. 

“Not just a story Bella. But we thought no different at the time. They sat in a stone chest, and we took them all. Traded them, but they more we gave away, the more we realized our greed was ruining us. Drink couldn’t satisfy, nor could food, turning to ash in our mouths. The touch of a woman failed to sate our lust.” He reached out and stroked Elizabeth’s hand. 

She jerked away. More and more, as Barbossa talked, Elizabeth’s reactions mimicked a young Andromeda Black: fierce, headstrong, regal. Bellatrix slammed the goblet down, not really caring about Elizabeth’s flinch and falter in appearance. 

It had been years since she’d thought about Andy in detail, and why did it have to be like this? Why did the reminder have to be so real, and tangible in front of her? She took a bite of the apple, hoping food might settle the uneasiness stirring in her stomach. The faintest memories of her sisters still stung with the cold knife of the dementor’s effects. Feelings churned in her, unable to decide if she genuinely missed Andy, or simply hated her. _She’s still my sister, even if she’s a rotten traitor._

Even in Azkaban, Bellatrix couldn’t let go of her sisters. Both had betrayed her, both had hurt her, yet they were all that kept her going. Whatever glint of hope she could pull from them kept her from breaking. Yes, Bellatrix had faith her Lord would come back for her. Every part of her needed him to, but in that darkness also existed a bond with her sisters. The dementors made sure she remembered how Andromeda married a mudblood and turned her back on her, and how Narcissa turned away as she fell harder for her Lord. But the foul creatures could not break the bond the Black Sisters harbored. There were still memories of their childhood, where Bellatrix was the strongest, the protector. No matter how much the dementors took from her, reminded her of how broken she already was, Bellatrix refused to be shattered completely. She fought to keep that small sliver of light there in the blackness of her cell, and heart. 

Elizabeth met her gaze, and Bellatrix shivered. For a second it was Andy with her light brown hair, and hazel grey eyes looking at her with a somber expression. She bit into the apple, averting her eyes, and casually bit her tongue, tasting iron and pain. Bellatrix blinked, pleased to see Elizabeth sitting there instead. 

Barbossa snapped his fingers, gaining both their attention. “Now,” he said, rubbing the medallion in his fingers. “We need to repay to the heathen gods. Blood spilled upon the coins and chest, repaying our greed by our lives themselves.”

Bellatrix tilted her head. “And so why would you need her? She wasn’t there when you idiots took the gold.” She clicked her teeth shut as he glared at her, a sour expression to his lips—a twitch of anger and disdain. 

He took his gaze from Bellatrix. “Miss Turner here has a relation of sorts to a missing crew member. Which is by the means she’s still alive.” He smirked and gave a bow to Elizabeth. 

Something stirred in the air and set off Bellatrix’s anxiety. Bellatrix hopped up, took Elizabeth by the shoulders, rubbing them, and traced her fingers down her arm. She wrestled a knife from her grip. “Don’t,” Bellatrix whispered into her ear, tossing the table knife to the floor. She pulled at the shoulders of Elizabeth’s dress. “Up, come now, don’t make me drag you.” Bellatrix gave an over exaggerated bow to Barbossa. “I’ll take it from here Cap’n.” 

She lead Elizabeth out of the cabin, and pushed her against the wall, holding her chin, forcing her to look out at the crew. “Careful doveling. They’re not dead, but not living. That trick you tried would have been useless. Remember that I got you out before you regretted it.” 

Bellatrix released her, Elizabeth wobbling slightly, staring out at the crew flashing between skeleton and flesh in the moonlight and shadows. 

“Moonlight reveals their curse. Gruesome. Come now, doveling, staring is rude.” Bellatrix pulled her into her quarter. “Mind the mess,” she teased. 

There wasn’t a piece of furniture left untouched. The floor was barely visible with debris thrown about. Bellatrix propped up two chairs and mended them. She sat in one, crossing her legs and inspecting her bare feet, picking out the glass shards from the sole. Elizabeth hovered in the middle of the room, ghosting about, staring in every direction. 

“You did all of this?” She asked, her voice small. 

Bellatrix picked out the last of the glass, saying a healing spell, again. The cuts scabbed over, not entirely mending. “Yes. Rage is a harsh mistress, one that cannot be tamed, like the sea.” She leaned her chair back against the wall, resting her arms behind her head, exhaling loudly. “Don’t know why I got so fucking angry. Happens. A lot.” 

Elizabeth still wouldn’t sit. She kept to herself looking out the window. Bellatrix righted her seat, placing her feet carefully on the ground, as to not cut them again. 

“Why did you help me,” Elizabeth asked. The question dangled in the air, right above Bellatrix, twisting and taunting her. 

“I dunno. Maybe because you remind me of my sister. Maybe it was to spite Barbossa. I like the latter better.” Bellatrix stood, searching around for her boots. The room was already a wreck, so there was no holding back while digging through the mess. She picked up her various coin purses, pocketing them away. 

Turning her glance back to Elizabeth, she frowned. Bellatrix walked over, gently touching the woman’s arm. She examined her hands. “Elizabeth. Tell me. You’re not really a Turner, are you? These aren’t working hands. They’re nice, soft and delicate. You aren’t a maid to the governor.” 

Elizabeth pulled away, giving Bellatrix a death glare. “It’s not up to you to know!” She backed up hitting the wall. 

Bellatrix followed her, placing an arm by her head, blocking her from turning away. “I’m of noble birth. I know an aristocrats hands, not working a day in your life, having it all handed to you.” She rubbed her fingers together, feeling how course they’d become over the last year. “I’m not interested in whatever Barbossa wants. He can pretend to think you’re who you say. I know you’re lying. I won’t tell, not if you talk.” She tucked a lock of hair behind Elizabeth’s ear. “My captain and I need his curse gone. Help me expedite that by telling me who you’re protecting.”

Elizabeth followed Bellatrix’s hand with her eyes, licking her lips. Her breath shook with a forced steadiness. Bellatrix lingered with her fingers on her cheek. 

“What will you give me in return?” Elizabeth asked. Her voice strong, and she pushed Bellatrix back, giving her an all too familiar glare. 

Bellatrix smirked. Victory was in her grasp. She leaned in, dangerously close, ignoring personal space. “Whatever you want, doveling, within reason.” Bellatrix couldn’t believe she was bargaining with a muggle, but survival first, and it needed to be done. 

Elizabeth’s mouth dropped open, and she clicked it shut. “There is nothing you could possibly give me that I want.” She tried to break away from her, but Bellatrix kept her cornered. In one movement, Elizabeth pushed Bellatrix back far enough she could move away. 

The dark witch rolled her eyes, whipped out her wand, and froze Elizabeth in place—her tumbling down to the floor with a crash. Bellatrix kicked her over, and bent down, brushing the hair from Elizabeth’s face. “Don’t be so difficult doveling. I can keep whoever you want safe from Barbossa. I just need them for the ritual, and we’re done. Nothing more or less.”

She wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth. Why would she need to keep a promise to a muggle? Maybe the reminder of her sister softened her too much. Bellatrix bit her lip, eyeing Elizabeth intently. She made strangled noises with her lips stuck together. “You can’t speak can you?” She released her body bind. “So tell me, who are you protecting.”

Elizabeth gasped, breathing quickly, and eyes darting around, settling on Bellatrix above her. “A man named William Turner,” she said with reluctance. Her gaze shifted away and far off. “I stole the medallion from him when we first met…”

“Good little dove.” Bellatrix patted Elizabeth’s cheek and pulled her up, so they both were standing. “That wasn’t too hard, now was it?” She cast spells arranging her room back into a neat and orderly fashion, mending everything she broke.

“How do you do that?” Elizabeth spun, looking about the room, watching everything move. “I thought the rumors about the devil woman using magic was just a scare tactic.” She sat in a chair at the fixed desk, moving all the way across the room. The look to her face said caution, and ounces of fear swam in her eyes but quickly swallowed. There was also a touch of admiration, a defiant spark of respect unspoken between the two. Though Bellatrix would argue it was merely the blurred reminder of her sister. 

Bellatrix smiled, taking a bow, winking. “I do my best.” She sat on her bed, staring at Elizabeth, she really was a pretty young woman. There was an idea to maybe impress her, and Bellatrix damned herself for always falling for a pretty face. Though she settled for eerie and threatening. “There is much more. Though I should probably erase your memory, but I fear there is use for you in the future. So count your blessings, Elizabeth.”

Bellatrix found creating a sleeping arrangement with Elizabeth to be quite daunting. She refused to sleep somewhere else, and nor would the little doveling. They were at an impasse, and it took every ounce of self-control she could muster, to not hex Elizabeth into the next century. It was a tempting itch nonetheless. This was a signal for some night air, and Bellatrix waltzed onto the deck, happy to find herself alone. 

_What to do about Elizabeth, and this William fellow._ Bellatrix paced around, catching glimpses of the stars above, twinkling in the black night. The moon still bright in the sky, not completely full, but enough to affect the curse. 

She could go off and look for William on her own, leave Barbossa to handle Elizabeth. That was an ill brought fate for her, and maybe it didn't settle in her mind as pleasantly as she'd imagined. Somehow she wandered to Barbossa's quarters, and hesitantly lingering at the door. This was a chance for her to make a decision for herself, to break away from the chain he kept trying to put on her. Part of her thought she should at least tell him she'd be off, but why? What loyalty did he earn from her? He'd taken care of her in her weak moments, but for what? Barbossa treated her as if she was nothing but a pawn. He never listened or took her advice. She was merely a piece to move around in his game, even if he helped heal her. A chill bristled in her spine. He reminded her of Cygnus, and this would be his test. 

Bellatrix went back into her cabin, taking her money, daggers and other weapons with her. She strapped them to her waist and saluted to Elizabeth, who sat at the desk toying with something in her fingers. "Be careful Dove. Do as Barbossa asked, and don't be a fuss. He's cruel but also a gentleman. If he asked, you didn't see me leave. You were calm and asleep in my bed where I most graciously let you rest." She winked. 

Elizabeth eyed her, not saying anything, but something was written on her visage wanted to be spoken. 

Bellatrix threw on her long coat. "Out with it doveling." 

"You're going after Will, aren't you."

She smirked. "Well done. Yes, I am. I have been stuck here for too damn long, and I'm wanting this curse broken so I can leave." Confusion marked Elizabeth's features, but Bellatrix ignored it. She dragged her over to the bed. "Now sleep." She cracked the back on her pistol on Elizabeth's skull, using the blunt force to knock her out, laying her in the soft sheets.

The question lingered though, where to start. The best guess Bellatrix had was back at Port Royal, where they found Elizabeth. Her man would not be too far behind her there, and it was the only point Bellatrix could think of. She traced the map on her desk, casting a divination spell, a green beacon emerging over Port Royal. It wasn't the most accurate spell, but it at the least confirmed her suspicions. 

With a crack she apparated off the _Black Pearl_ , her body hating the tug and pull of the magic, and landed on soft sand beneath her boots. It was still night, and only two days or so after the raid. The damage to the port still clearly wrecked and on display. Bellatrix barely made it into town before catching sight of a familiar face on a flyer hung haphazardly to a post. The portrait of her was very accurate, if not a tad accentuated, and the words WANTED—DEVIL BLACK painted below. Bellatrix didn't pay mind to the coin reward, only that her mission suddenly became much more complicated. 

She ripped the flyer from the post, tearing it up in her hands. A breath of frustration escaping her, strangling to be more than just an angry sigh. She'd need a disguise if she were to go any farther forward with her plan. Polyjuice potion would be her best option, but she highly doubted she could find any ingredients, or even already brewed. It would take too long to prepare it anyway. That left it down to an adjustment of attire. It irked her that somehow she’d found a time that had worse choices for fashion than the wizarding world she remembered. No article of clothing she ever found back home really was what she wanted, and it was only worse in the 18th Century. At least she didn’t have to wear a dress here, and men’s clothing was easier to move around in. She tried to count that as a bonus. 

Bellatrix wandered around the town, the cover of night aiding her in hiding her appearance, and found herself standing outside a clothing shop with broken windows and door. One step in, then two. She knocked on the door which hung off its hinges, busted inwards. The inside was a wreck and any valuables taken. All that was left were wooden torsos with dull clothing on them and bodies. A man and a woman laid dead in the middle of the showroom. Bellatrix stepped over them without care, taking an interest in the clothing. After digging around in the dark, she lit her wand for visual aid, and she ripped a corset from a mannequin. She felt it in her fingers. It wasn't a completely irritable material, but it would do. 

Bellatrix hid in the back, lit a candle, and looked at herself in the mirror. The corset weighed heavy in her hands, and she swallowed, taking in her appearance. Too long she'd gone without a proper way to bind her chest. Currently, all she had was some cloth wrappings to keep her breasts hidden from prying eyes, as her shirt was far too big and loose on her. She undressed her top half, staring at her reflection. Her ribs no longer poked out of her torso, in fact, she had some muscle definition in her abs, even her biceps. Yes, she still had her scars, and even more from accidents with swords. Her fingers traced the marks across her ribs, dragging her nails across her skin. Breath stopped in her throat and her eyes focused in on her breasts. She kicked a piece of debris across the room, making a subtle crash in the distance. Uncomfortable. There was anxiety she couldn't explain, and her mind whispered to put the corset on. So she did—too tightly in fact—anything to flatten her chest. It half worked, and Bellatrix shot her fist into the mirror, cracking it, and cutting her knuckles. Her broken reflection somehow matched her better than a clear one did. Bellatrix threw on a different shirt and long coat she found and pulled her hair up into a round floppy hat. It felt better, but still not correct. 

Her lungs burned as she could barely breathe. She grumbled and took off the corset, tossing it aside. Back to the wrappings, she went, tying them as tightly as she could. If only she were more familiar with charms. There was another thud as she kicked another piece of debris across the room, falling back against the wall. _This is not the time!_ Bellatrix buried these anxieties a long time ago, or so she thought. Her head fell to her hands, she slid down the wall, and Bellatrix let out one frustrated muted cry. Anger burned in her throat, that's why she cried, or it's what she told herself. It was just another episode of rage. 

She did not have time to think about this. 

Her knuckles stung and bled, but Bellatrix let them. It was nearing dawn, orange and pink skies peaked over the distant horizon. The reflection off the waves caught her eye, and Bellatrix took a moment to just breathe. She ripped her old shirt and made wrappings for her knuckles. Bellatrix enjoyed the look it gave her, and what use was a healing spell? The ones she's cast lately only seemed to work half the time. These were very minor cuts, and they'd heal fast enough, she hoped. 

Bellatrix stood, kicking at the debris again while she thought. Another look in the mirror and she adjusted the hat, long coat, her shirt. She nitpicked at her outfit until frustration made the itch to lash out creep up again. It was as good as she'd get, but it still wasn't enough. The new scar across her nose and cheek might be her saving grace as that wasn't on her flyer. After a little more scrounging around, Bellatrix found a case of makeup hidden in an overturned desk. After magically fixing the mirror, she tried her best to fake some minor facial hair on her chin and lip, and it didn't turn out too bad. Hopefully, no one would look at her too long. With only a quick glance, she'd pass for a man. One last time she tugged on the chest bindings, making them as tight as possible without pain, and she left her eye lingering on her reflection. _Close, but not correct._ Bellatrix practiced her voice, trying to smooth it out and deepen it slightly. Vaguely she remembered a charm to change someone's voice, she used it a few times in the first war. It altered her tone and pitch enough her voice wouldn't give her disguise away. Hearing herself with a different voice was jarring. She didn't necessarily like or dislike her natural voice, but sometimes different was welcome. A step out the door and she was off to look for her quarry.

The morning wasn't as busy as she'd expect. People did move about as the sun rose into the sky, but they were dreary in their movements. Sorrow took to the air around the port town. At least they had the sense to clean up the bodies left lying in the streets from the raid, no thanks to her.

Bellatrix didn't know where to start looking for Will, but those ships with busy docks might be a start. If he were going to chase after Elizabeth, he'd need a ship. She walked down to a lonely dock just parallel to a busy one and not too far off to the fort. She also pocketed a flyer or two of Devil Black on her way over. 

"Halt," came a voice. "This dock is off limits. Move on." A soldier dressed in a red jacket and white trousers stopped her, with a rifle held to the side, not threatening her yet. 

Bellatrix said nothing at first, watching him closely. He faltered under her gaze, unable to keep eye contact. "Terribly sorry, I just needed a glance around. I'm missing someone you see. He said he'd be trying to get a ship for a trip. Name's William Turner, nephew, quite a pain, but family still." Internally, Bellatrix cursed herself. It was such a stupid lie, but then again the Royal Navy couldn't know everyone's homelives now could they? The soldier pondered for a moment, actually considering her words. 

"Mr. Turner is a wanted man. Broke a pirate out of jail he did. Seemed to fancy the governor's daughter and went to rescue her on his own instead of letting us do our jobs." He made a face, unhappy with the circumstance. "Can't blame him though. She's a pretty one."

She had to hold back a gut reaction to punch or slice him with her sword. Bellatrix had to take a breath and remember, Elizabeth is just a muggle, not your sister. She's not Andromeda.

If William broke out a pirate, they'd probably be headed to Tortuga, the pirate port, for a ship and crew. That was her next bet. How they'd get there, she had no idea, but what option did she have left? Bellatrix took out the Devil Black flyer. 

"Should I be concerned about this?" She asked, handing it to the soldier. "I've only heard a few stories. She can't be real can she?"

He licked his lips and took an audible breath. "Personally I think it's all rubbish. The only story I've heard is a captain so evil that hell spat him out when he died, just to bring this demon woman with him—” he rubbed his face, sighing, and showing how annoyed he was—"The things she's said to be capable of, impossible. Highly doubt there is a reason to worry, citizen."  

"Wasn't she here the other day? Didn't she do this to Port Royal?" Bellatrix gestured behind her to the town. 

He visibly stiffened and sweat beaded on his brow. Bellatrix concealed a smirk, tipped her hat to the man, and walked off, putting the flyer back in her pocket. Next stop, Tortuga.

* * *

It had been a few days that Bellatrix had been in Tortuga, and the spirit hadn't died. It was always refreshing to be surrounded by drunk idiots who reveled in their intoxication. There was beautiful artistry in the mayhem that it allowed her to cause. It was never out of place either. Drunks took to the streets, taverns, and often face planted in the dirt. Scoundrels followed and stalked the shadows looking for a position to pounce. Cutthroats lurked at every corner waiting for blood money. This was Bellatrix’s perfect atmosphere, and she could get away with everything. She could punch whoever she wanted for looking at her wrong. Bellatrix didn't hold back. She could shoot, kill, torment, torture whoever she wanted for whatever reason her devious mind deemed needed because everyone was drunk off their arses and didn't question it. Though they did start to learn Bellatrix was a tempest they did not wish to sail into. 

The tavern around her was loud, but it was merely ambiance. Bellatrix kept the drink coming to those around her in payment for an extra set of eyes. She paid her way around the bar for extra ears and eyes. Any talk of the name William or a pirate face who hadn’t been around for some time, they were to come to tell her. It did mean there were many false alarms, and one of them lay dead out back for trying to get her in bed with them. Thankfully people either recognized her by reputation and did her bidding out of fear, or were none the wiser. It was just that some were too drunk to care. 

The doors to the tavern opened, and in walked three men. One short and stocky, and the other two relatively tall and lean. Bellatrix kept an eye on them as they took a corner to be their own. _Suspicious, isn’t it._ She’d never seen any of them before, save for the short one. He was usually drunk in the corner whenever she’d be in town. They were too far away from her to read their lips well, but one of them stood off to the side watching around. He was the youngest of the three she could tell. They made eye contact, and she winked at him. Quickly he averted his gaze to somewhere else, other patrons bothering him as well. 

A man stumbled over to Bellatrix, falling half on her, slurring his speech as he spoke, and gestured to them in the corner. “That’s Jack Sparrow. Don’t know what he’s up to but I heard him talk about a ‘William’ or something. Also heard him talk about Barbossa. Thought you should know.” He held out his hand expectantly. 

Bellatrix slapped enough coin in his hand to pay for his night's drink, and she stumbled over to the men, shaking her head. Maybe she’d had a bit too much to drink as well. She pushed past the young man, putting her hand in his face, shutting him up as he tried to protest. In one motion she sat down between the two men at the table, snatching up the short one’s tankard. 

“Evening gents.” She took a large swig of the drink. It burned down her throat, and damn did she enjoy it. “I’m hoping you can help me with a problem I’m having.” Upon closer inspection, the tall man had very handsome features. His jawline for one thing, and deep brown eyes. His tanned skin was perfect too, tattoos hiding on his collarbone, just barely visible. His style wasn’t too bad either: a bandana wrapped around his head and hiding under his hat, long hair with beads and dangles hanging from it. They clinked together as he pulled back, inspecting her. What an odd facial expression. Somehow it felt like he was looking into her, rather than at her, with such a puzzled gaze. “I’m looking for someone.”

The other man, the short and pale one, had greying hair, and thick white sideburns that ran all the way across the sides of his jaw. He spoke up first. “And how can we help with that?” He pulled his tankard from his hands, drinking it, a certain nervousness to him.

She smirked, and pulled out her pistol, leaning back nonchalantly and pointing it at him. “Well, I’m so glad you asked. See, the man I’m looking for is named William Turner. Don’t tell me I’ve wasted my money trying to find you.” She looked to the man standing guard, he was busy fighting off other drunk patrons to pay attention. “I’m guessing that’s him.”

The tall one went, “And what would it mean to you if it was?” He tapped his chin while eyeing her. “I’ve seen you before…”

Bellatrix threw off her hat and saluted to the man. “Devil Black, if you please.” She let a smirk cross her features, still holding the short one at gunpoint, cocking the pistol.  The nearby patrons died down at the utter of her nickname, just to start up their revelry again. “And you handsome?” She asked, scanning him from head to toe. Oh, yes, she liked this one. 

He leaned in, grasping her hand with the pistol, and slowly settling it, pulling it away. “I rather doubt that’s the name your mum gave you. A name for a name?” 

She leaned back; pondering for a moment, debating if she should, but desperate times calls to throw caution to the wind. Bellatrix worked hard to keep only Barbossa and a select few of the _Pearl’s_ crew to know her actual name. Elizabeth knows, but she’ll probably be dead soon. _Time travel rules be damned._ She grabbed back her pistol and put it in her sash. “It’s Bellatrix. Now, one of you is named Jack Sparrow, which of you is he?” 

“There should be a captain in there.” The tall one said. “Captain Jack Sparrow, at your service, miss.” He tipped his hat and took a drink. “Though, I be wondering, what does Devil Black want with poor William over there? Need him for a demonic sacrifice?” His brown eyes peered at her from the shadows, the candlelight catching them perfectly, waiting for her answer. Something cruel and amused, written in the grin across his lips. 

A laugh escaped her and formed into a manic cackle. “Of the sorts.” Bellatrix ran her fingers through her curls, eyeing the few strands of grey. “ _Well that sours the mood,_ ” she thought. She took another look at Jack. It was hard to gauge his age, but he was old enough. “Don’t tell me you believe the stories.”

Jack’s grin widened. He leaned back, taking a glance at the people around. He brought his hands up, and the gestured with him as he spoke. “Well, it’s not every day the Caribbean gets another wizard folk now, is it. Ol’ Tia Dalma has a run for her work.” With a curious glance, he shifted, looking directly into her. “We’re the same. Wizard, or might I say, witch, turned pirate, ey love?” He raised his drink in salute. 

She quirked a brow, and pulled out her wand, silencing the area around them with a muttered spell. “A wizard you say? What family? Should I wipe the fat one’s mind when we’re done—”the man sat up straighter, coughing back up his drink—“I can say I’ve done enough damage to the secrecy issue as is.” Bellatrix twirled her wand in her hands. She looked him up and down again. “Yet, I see no wand, unless it's hidden in the mess of a coat.”

“I’m a squib, thank you,” the fat one said.

For a moment, something dark came across Jack’s features. He twisted a ring in one hand, keeping a close eye on her. The shadow passing over his visage did not leave. In fact, it worsened as he spoke. “You’re a pure-blood aren’t you.”

“Only the purest,” Bellatrix said with pride. “A Black.” She put her wand to her lips and made a teasing ‘oh’. “You’re not a pure-blood... Such a shame.” A lingering touch of her wand to his cheek, before she put it back in its holster. She couldn’t take her eyes off his build though. 

“I may be a half-blood but mum was a proud Selwyn,” he said. Aggravation filled his voice. He caught Bellatrix’s hand tightly, hurting the small cuts from days before. “But makes me no less of a wizard. I have skill, and that’s all that matters.” In seconds he sobered up and sat straighter, keeping a narrowed gaze on her. 

Bellatrix ripped her hand away. “I need William, and you cannot keep me from taking him.” Her lips flattened into a thin tight line while her jaw locked, fingers itching for her sword.

Jack didn’t relax. In fact, he adjusted himself and spoke clearly with an edge. “I know you’re just Barbossa’s lackey. What has he told you to rope you into this little quest, ey?” His hand tapped the hilt of his sword, as did hers—both itching for a fight. “Or is that story of you being a demon lover true?”

With precision she threw a dagger, narrowly missing his head. “Wrong, and next time I won’t miss. Our goals just happen to align is all. Barbossa has something I want, but I need William to get it.”

He thought for a moment. Again, tapping his chin and lips while pondering away. “That traitorous git snapped my wand. Find me a new one, and I’ll help you acquire what you need, you merry murderess.” Curiously enough, he relaxed. 

Bellatrix made fists, holding back a frustrated groan. “Fine,” she snapped. _More setbacks._ She held out her hand expectantly. “I believe you’re a man of your word. I’ll hold you to that, Mister Sparrow.”

Jack shook hers, and she pulled away after, undoing her silencing charm, apparated right out of the tavern and onto the beach. She kicked the sand and let out an angry scream. Bellatrix fell to her knees. “Can nothing go right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh hey look Jack FINALLY showed up. How'd I do with him?


	5. Desperation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd be lying if I didn't say I wanted to name this chapter "birates of the caribbean." You'll see why. Sorry for all the mistakes. 
> 
> Content Warnings: Alcohol, SMUT, minor violence, hints of abuse, I think that's it.

**Part One: By Blood And Curses**

* * *

 

To say that Bellatrix had an easy job of finding Jack Sparrow a wand would be a lie. There were wizards or witches in the Caribbean, but they did not have one, let alone a spare. A European styled wizarding community had yet to be established, and so wandmakers had not found their way down from the primary British colonies, as the natives of the Caribbean seemed to not need wands. In short, Bellatrix was frustrated, and jealous of the power level of the natives. 

There were whispers about a witch in the local islands of mythical level abilities. Tia Dalma being her name, which struck a familiar ring in her mind. She’s the one Jack mentioned back at the tavern. Bellatrix didn't buy into the rumors too heavily until she had no other choice but to try bargaining. 

Finding Tia Dalma's hut amongst the swampish lagoon found itself difficult, even with a local guide. The creaks of the rowboat and various croaks of wildlife made an, unlike anything she’d experienced before. The trees of the swamp were dense enough to cut out all the sunlight, albeit the small crack of orange glow burning at the tops of the canopy. 

The lantern at the front of the boat illuminated the murky river, and vaguely caught the glimmer of eyes lurking about the water. She peered over the boat to catch a glimpse, but her guide pulled her back. 

“Don't want to draw their attention anymore,” he said. “Crocodiles can be aggressive, especially if they're protecting her.” 

“So can I,” she snapped. 

They continued down the small river, passing various other village homes, and massive trees. A few of the residents stood outside and watched them travel, never taking their eyes off them. It was eerie, but she guessed they didn’t get many visitors. The guide stopped them at a two-story home built above the water and into the surrounding trees. It wasn’t a shack, but she worried for its structural integrity. Bellatrix could feel the presence of a magic in the air, surrounding the home, and permeating into her skin. Maybe it was held up by magic, or she was too judgemental of muggle’s building skills. Either way, the magical energy buzzing in her skin was concerning and unusual.

A faint light flickered in the window. Bellatrix hopped off the boat, instructing her guide to wait. Her leather boots made little noise as she walked across the small dock and up the rickety steps to the door.

“Come in,” sounded a woman’s voice. It was thick with an accent Bellatrix couldn't exactly place. 

She stepped into the home, taking a quick glance around. It was like a potion storage room. Everywhere there were jars of various ingredients, some more occult than others, as well as various divination tools. It was cluttered but in a messy organized way.  

Sitting at a small round table with a decaying map thrown across it was a woman with dreadlocks draping her face and shoulders, the occasional feather poking from them. The lantern light cast a bathing golden glow to her reddish-brown skin—a sepia color with an earthy undertone. Her dark painted lips parted into a smile as she looked up at Bellatrix.

_This must be Tia Dalma._

“Welcome,” Tia said. “Might I say, I never get such visitors.” There was a shine in her eyes, something magical and devious, as she inspected Bellatrix.

“I hear you're a witch of great power,” Bellatrix dead-panned. She walked over and sat across from Tia, quickly eyeing an unsettling jar of eyes out in the open. “I find myself roped into getting someone a wand...” Her fingers drummed on the table while she took in more of the room. Her eyes didn’t want to stay on Tia for they’d linger too long. Something inside her ribs coiled and twisted. The buzzing in her skin intensified. “Fool got his snapped.” 

Tia said nothing at first. She continued to overlook Bellatrix. There was something painted across her features that she couldn't place, but it was strange like Tia was looking into her, reading her. What was so fascinating to these people, that they had to look at her like that? Tia was pretty, and Bellatrix faltered, staring at her while the silence deadened the atmosphere. 

“I have what you need,” Tia drawled. Her grin grew, and she took Bellatrix’s tapping hand into hers. “But I need payment.” 

The touch was soft and welcome. Her aura happily let Tia’s in, her magic almost calling out to her. Bellatrix cocked her head, keeping their hands connected. “What kind of payment are we talking about?”

Tia pulled away, and Bellatrix’s skin missed her already, yet they’d only just met. Though it felt like they’d been in the same room for eternity, knowing one another. The pull between them was like a tide, tugging at her to be closer, and yet pushed her back by some force. Tia went and grabbed a small pocket bag, pulling out a matter of bones, crab claws, and other small natural objects. She whispered to them before tossing them lightly across the table, mumbling to herself as she read them. 

“Destiny,” Tia whispered to herself. Other words fell from her lips, but Bellatrix couldn't catch them. Then she looked up at Bellatrix with a great big grin, that border lined with a smirk. Bellatrix quirked an eyebrow. Tia was up to something, but she couldn't place what.

Tia moved to rifle through a chest, not far from the table. She pulled out a long wand with insanely intricate design, rolling it in her fingers before placing it on the table between them. “I will give you this wand as you ask, but you will owe me. I usually do not operate like this… but I feel that destiny might bend my rules.”

Bellatrix took the wand and examined it. “So no payment now, but I’ll be indebted.” She bit her lip. Gods, it was so frustrating, being pulled in every direction, no choice of her own, no voice of her own. She swallowed the urge to snap the wand now and instead tucked it in the holster besides hers. 

“Yes, but you’ll have a better chance of getting home with the wand. Witty Jack can be trusted, to an extent. That man’s mind is too tricky for anyone to really know what he’s up to.” Tia retook Bellatrix’s hands, rubbing her thumbs over them. Her eyes closed and she paused. Silence, save for the creatures of the swamp and occasional creaking of the home. “I sense anger.” Her eyes opened, peering out to Bellatrix.

Bellatrix looked away, and pulled her hands back, crossing her arms. “It’s not unusual for me,” she mumbled. She stewed a moment longer before glaring back at Tia. “How’d you know it was for Jack?”

“You wear it well for someone plagued by it.” Tia leaned forward, clearing the divination tools from the table. The question about Jack was left with no answer. She cast the bones again, and read. Her posture stiffened.  “You’re frustrated with your situation, and you doubt Barbossa. He cannot be trusted at this time, Bellatrix.”

Her fists tightened, nearly ripping her shirt with her nails. “I know. But what choice do I have?” _I should have known to never trust a Black. We’re a fucked up family, through and through._ Bellatrix picked up a jar, toying with it, watching the contents shift in it, and needing to fidget to hold back an outburst. “How will getting Jack a wand help me though if Barbossa isn’t to be trusted.” Her voice strained her throat. Anger scratched at it just to be swallowed. 

Tia sat back, lacing her fingers together, and a smile on her lips. “Barbossa’s curse needs to be put to an end.” Her eyes traced back over the divination tools. “I need him dead, and there you will want him dead too. I can get you home, but I need Barbossa’s corpse.” 

Bellatrix glared up at her, speaking slow and forced. “Prove it. I’m tired of taking people for their word. If you’re powerful enough to do that, prove it.”

With a quick movement, Tia was up and standing over Bellatrix. “My magic goes beyond what mortals can do.” Her hand touched Bellatrix’s cheek, caressing it. When it pulled away, energy flowed with it. It hovered in the air, dancing between purples, blues, and greens. “Pull out your wand and cast a spell,” Tia commanded. 

She quirked a brow, watching the energy. As it danced in the air, a weight hit her limbs. Her hand shook as she pulled out her wand as if all her strength was gone. “Lumos,” she said. But her wand did not light. “Lumos!” It still did not work. “What did you do?” Panic rose in her voice, stricken with anger and fear. She tried to stand, but her legs refused to work. It was like a year ago when her body was barely functional but worse. An emptiness carved its way through her insides. Hollow, she felt hollow, and her power taken, ripped from her. 

The energy bobbed in the air twisting and curling like waves. Its whisps traveled to Tia, swirling around her, kissing her skin. 

Tia smirked, “I took your magic away. I’ll put it back, do not worry, but does this prove to you my power?”

Bellatrix nodded slowly and swallowed the fear creeping up in her. _Powerful..._ Tia pulled her up and placed her hand over Bellatrix’s heart. The energy streamed back in her, and her strength flushed through her body, steading her on her feet. However, the emptiness still devoured her inside. Her magic settled in her bones but kept tugging to get out, a force pulling her towards Tia. The emptiness consumed her for a moment, only to cease as she eyed Tia, aware of how close they were standing. The feeling of Tia’s breath on her skin and her magic aura clashing with hers sent shivers up her spine. A strange, overwhelming urge took her, to just lean forward and kiss Tia. Was it the power she displayed, or something else? Her cheeks burned, and she bit her lip. By the smug look on Tia’s face, she felt the same. Neither moved away, and they kept close, Bellatrix putting her hands on Tia’s hips. 

“Strange,” she whispered. 

Tia tucked a strand of hair behind Bellatrix’s ear, her touch hover over her skin. Something devious and knowing in her eyes stirred, the light only giving them an ethereal glow. “In time Star,” she replied. She kissed Bellatrix’s forehead and pulled away. 

The space between feeling like leagues of sea separating them. Bellatrix lingered for too long watching Tia exit to the backroom through a veil of beaded threads. She stalked off and out of the home, the air outside hitting her hard. It was cool on her cheeks oddly enough. It was nearing night, so of course, it was cooler. She had her guide take her out and back to the beach, where she slit his throat and left him to rot in the boat.  

She dropped her map out onto the sands with the sun setting on the horizon. Bellatrix pulled out her wand and held it, feeling the wood. With caution, she cast her divination spell to find Jack Sparrow. A green dot appeared on the map, out in the open sea. She looked over the map meticulously to memorize the coordinates and a route. Bellatrix pocketed away the map and formed into smoke, jetting up into the night sky, off to find Jack.   

* * *

 

She landed on her back with a thud. Pain spiked through her spine and pelvic bones as she rolled over on the deck. She’d found a Navy ship that matched what her spell showed her. Bellatrix really needed to work on her landing. Her body didn’t want to move anymore, and she laid there, still, for who knows how long. 

Footsteps approached. “Oy! Where did you come from?” It was a woman, and she didn’t sound happy. A lamp light hovered a yellow hue over the deck. 

Bellatrix rolled onto her back, looking up at her. Her copper skin gleaming in the light. “Tell me, is Jack Sparrow captain of this ship?” Bellatrix sighed. She covered her eyes with her arm. _Why can’t anything go smoothly?_

“Aye, and why does it matter?” The woman ground. 

She sat up, rubbing her temples. “I have something for him. He owes me.” Bellatrix leaned back, scanning the deck. It was only them and someone at the helm. The look on the woman’s face soured. “Don’t like Sparrow? I’ve met him once, and I already hate him.” 

The woman contemplated for a moment before putting out her hand. “Jack owes a lot of people. Including me. He’s asleep. You can pester the bastard in the morning. Come, I’ll get you a drink. You look like you need it.” A devious smirk across her lips.  

Bellatrix took her hand and used it to help her stand. The two went down below deck where the rum was stored. There was a lot considering Bellatrix didn’t think this was a pirate ship per se. The Navy apparently had an equally horrible drinking problem. It was all Jack’s now, and his crew’s, but most likely just Jack’s. Bellatrix didn’t care either way, she stalked forward, eyeing each bottle, taking the one most full for herself. She uncorked it with her teeth and drank a decent swig down. 

She smiled at the woman with her. “Don’t leave me to drink alone.” There was still heat in her skin and a tinge to her cheeks. It had been a few hours since that strange occurrence with Tia Dalma and the impact unyielding.  

The woman walked forward, putting her hand on hers, taking the bottle from her fingers. She drank, a smug smirk on her lips, and eyes not breaking contact with Bellatrix’s. 

The two drank together until walking became hindered by the rocking of the ship—two bottles gone between the two of them. What little light they had in the chamber, cast an elegant glow on her company, named Anamaria she discovered sometime into the night. _Damn, she’s pretty._ Her cheeks burned, the frustration of years without sex bubbling beneath the surface, lingering feelings from her visit with Tia Dalma in her, and she laced her fingers with Anamaria’s. Her skin was soft like silk even for a pirate. Bellatrix held her hand in hers. The warm feeling of another human touching her, even this simple, satisfied and increased her drive. It had been so long, so very long since anyone really touched her. The smell of alcohol on both their breaths gently ghosted over her skin, sending tingles in it, and heat to her cheeks. Her imagination ran rampant with ideas, and a lusty gaze from Anamaria did not help. 

Bellatrix wasn’t sure who leaned in first. They kissed slowly. Then it quickly became heated, hungry. Bellatrix needed this more than anything, and she made it clear with how she pushed Anamaria against a post, kissing her like life itself would end if she stopped. Clothes came off slowly, fumbling with drunk coordination. Bellatrix stopped Anamaria from removing her breast bindings, but everything else was free reign. 

Her back hit the post, and Anamaria kissed her all over, causing goosebumps to form and compete with the heat in her skin. Then her tongue found the sweet spots. Bellatrix threw her head back, running her fingers through her own hair to ground herself. There weren’t even fingers involved yet, and she was addicted to the feelings. Anamaria ate her out, lifting her leg onto her shoulder. Bellatrix grasped the post, feeling woozy with lust and the alcohol. It had been so long, and her body was so needy, her first climax happened quickly, jolting through her body, and sending her to a heaven like state. Her mind clouded, and she pulled Anamaria up, kissing her on the lips. 

Then they fucked over crates of Jack’s rum, taking turns lying on their backs for one another. Bellatrix was sure Anamaria was doing it to spite Jack Sparrow somehow, and that was all right with her. All she cared about was releasing the tension she’d built. Overcome by her feelings and lack of thinking, she didn’t care if her momentary partner was a muggle, but no one had to know how desperate she was, except for Anamaria. She did not disappoint either. It had been far too long since Bellatrix had been touched by a woman, and it was such a sweet release. From the noises her company made; she was not entirely out of practice.

Anamaria would run her hands over her body, touching everywhere sensitive, and Bellatrix just craved more. Her touch warmed her body beyond what she could handle. Bellatrix liked to receive and lay on her back most of the time, and her company didn’t oppose. The touching of skin to skin drove her crazy, being held down, and grinding against another human… Bellatrix finally escaped her worries, if only a moment, and what a glorious ecstasy filled moment it was. 

Before dawn, and with a splitting headache, she dressed before anyone could find out. Anamaria was already gone back to her station while she chose to stay hidden. 

Enough time passed, and the bristle of the crew above echoed down to her. Bellatrix ran up the flights of the ship, up onto the deck, catching eye of Anamaria at the helm. She straightened her back as they made eye contact, winking at her. A soft smile crested on Anamaria lips to quickly fade as Jack stood next to her; casually directing with a compass in his hand, the other wrapped around her. 

“Sparrow!” Bellatrix yelled while stalking up to him. It took too much coordination to keep walking straight and hiding her hangover. The headache plaguing her only increased at her screaming. She pulled out the wand from her holster and held it out to him. 

Jack glanced at it, eyeing it for a while before hesitantly reaching out to take it. Bellatrix jerked it back. “Oh no. I got you a wand, and now you’ll help me get what I want.”

He crested up onto her personal space, looking up at her for she was a few inches taller. “And what exactly is it that you want, miss?” Jack hissed.

Bellatrix forced him back with a quick shove. “William handed to Barbossa.” Then she took a step into his space, glaring down at him. A hand wrapped around the collar of his coat. Her voice fell low and cold. "For far too long have I been playing handmaid for men like you and Barbossa. I promise you that you will regret crossing me." She released her grip and shoved him away. 

"We want the same thing then, love." He straightened his coat, leaving his hands on his sword hilt. Jack tipped his head for her to follow him. "Come." He lead her down to the captain's quarters. 

She hesitantly followed with tight fists to her sides, nearly snapping the wand in half. The quarters were painted a dull blue and red interior. Its decorations were far too fancy for Bellatrix's taste. If Narcissa saw this, she'd panic, and insist on redecorating it all. There was a table in the middle of the room, and she stalked to it, quietly sitting, waiting. 

Bellatrix broke the silence while Jack found himself a bottle of rum. "You say we have a common interest?"

"That we do. I am suspecting you want his curse gone for some matter or another. I do as well." He poured Bellatrix a drink and handed it to her. He drank down the rest of the bottle, albeit not much, before sitting across from her. "Our reasons are our own why we're out here on this little adventure, ey? William is on a rescue mission and coincidentally would die for his bonny lass, so, might we work together to help him."

She gulped down her portion. Her head throbbing and the light peaking in the window not helping. "How convenient," she mused. Bellatrix kept an eye on Jack as he thought, staring back at her. Anyone could see the ideas bouncing around in his head, grinding to find a solution. Devious, and might she say cruel. "We can help William find his Elizabeth, but first, a duel. I want to see this wizard skill you have." She paused, and Jack merely quirked a brow. "If you even have any," she teased. "After that, we can attempt to not murder each other. Though that would be so much fun..."

“A duel against Devil Black, you say?” Jack sat back, fingers laced together, twiddling his thumbs. More calculations probably were going through his head. "Agreed," he said, holding out his hand. 

Bellatrix dropped the wand into his and stood up. She paced, keeping an eye on anything but Jack. "By chance did you go to a wizarding school?" 

He walked up behind her, putting his hands to her shoulders. "Hogwarts, but I left early on. It wasn't for me. If you are so curious, Slytherin, though the hat also stalled on Ravenclaw. Praytell, why do you care, love?" Jack let go of her and wandered off grabbing another bottle of rum. 

She slid her gaze to him, taking in his full frame. Tall, handsome, a wizard even if a half-blood, a Slytherin, and other crude thoughts about Jack passed through her mind. _Maybe, I don't hate him as much as I thought._ She bit her lip. _Wish he's take off that damn coat._ Bellatrix broke her vision away and slapped herself on the face. _Not the time._

“I like to know who I’m dealing with,” Bellatrix dead-panned. She passed him, taking the bottle from his hands, and taking a swig. “I’m a Slytherin as well.” Bellatrix gave him back his alcohol and a light smack to the cheek. She grinned and walked out, reminding him to meet her in an hour for a duel. 

Bellatrix sat on the railing, a foot entangled in the ropes connecting the deck to the mast to keep her from falling, avoiding the crew at all costs. She chewed a few dried portions of meat she was able to talk Anamaria into giving her. Her stomach was growling fiercely and even started to hurt, unable to recall the last time she ate instead of drink. The hour ticked away and Bellatrix planned how she’d take down Jack. He had a certain aura about him that veiled him in a mystery. She didn’t know what to expect, though, to her bias, that wasn’t much, to begin with. Would she have enough self-control to not murder him, she’ll see. Maybe cutting out the middleman wasn’t such a bad idea after all. 

Someone tapped her shoulder, and she turned to the short pale man with grey sideburns from the tavern. “Can I help you?” She growled. 

“Jack says the crew needs to stay below for a while. Muggles can’t see much of the duel I suppose—” he took a drink from a flask hidden in his vest—“I know what Jack is. I know what you really are.” There was a certain glint to his eye, like the wonder of a child, though a shade of trickery also gleamed in them. “Been too long since I’d seen a proper duel. Gibbs is the name. Joshamee Gibbs.” He held out his hand. 

She got off the railing and stared down her nose at him, swatting his hand away. “I suppose Jack knows you know this. If you get caught in the crossfire, I have no qualms with finishing you off either.” Her voice came out as a hiss, dangerous, and condescending. “Don’t regret it when you see Jack Sparrow get his handed to him.” Bellatrix crossed her arms and leaned against the railing, staring off at the sea. “I am curious of his skill level.”

Gibbs took another quick drink. “I’ve never seen his skills, that was before I met him and before Barbossa snapped his wand during—” he cut himself off with a snap of his jaw, a suspicious glance, and then another swig—“Here comes Jack.” He almost spilled his sip down his chin. 

Bellatrix rolled her eyes and pulled out her wand. She pushed Gibbs to the side. “Stay out of my way.” 

Jack stood across from her, wand in hand, glancing around, analyzing. Something ticked on his lips and quirked it into a smile. Bellatrix rolled her gnarled wand in her hand. It vibrated—itching to hex him. She took a step forward, throwing a quick stunning charm his way. Jack reacted faster than she thought, bringing up a shield that shattered at the power of her charm, and stepping away, using a cluster of barrels for cover. Her energy rippled in the air, and it was damn impressive he could deflect it so well. 

“Oh come now Jack, hiding?” Bellatrix singsonged. She stalked back and forth, keeping herself moving, and not a clear motionless target. “Come on then. Show me your wizarding skills, or were you lying like every other man I’ve met.” 

Bellatrix’s taunts didn’t provoke an attack, and she stopped for a second to let out a frustrated groan, only then did Jack swoop up, and sent a jet of red light at her. With ease she conjured a shield, bouncing the spell off to sea. She was pushed back a few inches but stayed her ground. 

_So, trickery._ Jack stepped out and threw a slew of other spells in quick succession her way. His clothes swished with his movements, fluid, well timed. It was beautiful, but she didn’t have time to stare and admire. Bellatrix dodged the first two barely, shielded from the third, and took the last one to the chest. Her head spun, thumped, and her eyes wanted to close. Bellatrix bit her lip til she bled, forcing her eyes open, and her brain awake. She could get past the stunner. She knew she could. 

With a forward motion and step she threw a dark curse she stole from Severus at Jack. He ducked, with his hair and its baubles swinging dramatically. Scratch marks etched themselves into the wood behind him. She tried another curse, and it was deflected, again visibly shattering the shield charm by its power, but nothing got through to Jack. He did step carefully, and she followed to keep up. One step to the left, and he took one to the right. They inched closer to each other over the exchange of spells. 

Jack had excellent form and had tossed his coat away like it hindered him. Once it was off his motions became as fluid as water, gliding through the air sending spells her way. It distracted her, and so did how it made her cheeks tint pink. She took another stunner to the chest, cursing her hormones, but by willpower alone, she moved her body to stay awake. Jack was patient unlike her, and he was playing to her weakness. 

He was pissing her off and turning her on, and he knew it, owned it. 

Bellatrix threw a stunner, and then formed into smoke, knocking into him, crashing them down onto the deck. She placed a dagger to his neck as she sat across his chest. It pressed into his neck, and Jack merely smirked. She could feel his breath on her skin, and a few goosebumps crawled onto her. 

“A draw then,” he snapped with a weird smile and mouth quirk.

She huffed and retracted. “It would seem so.” She stormed off to the bow of the ship, avoiding looking back. In the moment, she couldn’t think, and she rested against the railing, head spinning, and darkness wanting to take her. Her cheeks burned, a lust filling her foggy mind, and a warm feeling pooling in the pit of her stomach. She slammed her hand against the wood. _Damn it! He’s good._

What was she doing? Bellatrix stared off at the water rushing by the ship. She, pining after some half-blood pirate, what has the world come to, what madness did Azkaban or the heat ill her with? Her mind traveled to her Lord, missing him. So did her body. It missed his touch. Her head fell into her hands, not able to admit she was hiding from the world. She missed him, but it hurt, deep inside. The memories she had of him in battle and leading the Death Eaters caused a shiver up her spine, but the memories of them together were not as pleasurable. His touch was rough and painful, but she still missed it. She missed him so fucking much.

Jack was the only one she’d met to be on her level of skill, who wasn’t an undead family member. How could she even like the sly bastard? She barely knew him, yet in these last few minutes, he’d earned her respect as a wizard. No one could draw her in a duel, except her Lord, he always defeated her to an inch of her life to remind her of her place. Bellatrix had found an equal, and her intimacy starved mind and body craved him. Ideas kept going through her head of Jack, some lewder than others. She kicked a barrel over violently and let out a rageful groan. _I should only think of the Dark Lord like this, and even then, I shouldn’t at all._

* * *

The sun beat down, with a storm far behind them, but slowly rolling to catch up. She had just her vest on due to the heat, her snake tattoo wrapped happily around her bicep, her Dark Mark faded and grey on her other arm. Bellatrix was adjusting a tack line, per the captain’s orders. She was capable, and with their interests aligning, Jack put her to work. Just like on Barbossa’s ship, she was merely a deckhand with an attitude. With the rope pulled tautly, she turned away, stopping mid-step, and running straight into Jack who had a mischievous smirk on his lips. 

“Well done love. What else can you do with those lovely hands, hm?” He looked her up and down, something swimming in his eyes.

Bellatrix rolled hers and moved onto adjusting another rope. “Strangle you for one,” she said, pulling the line tight, and flexing her muscles. 

She looked back at Jack, whose lips were pressed tight, an odd look on his face. Bellatrix merely smirked and pushed past him, there was more to be done before the storm hit. 

* * *

The storm still was behind them, but catching up, swarming to the horizon cresting the port side. It was still a few days before it hit. Bellatrix collapsed onto the deck, back against the side railing. She looked up into the blue sky, squinting. It was clear, beautiful, and relaxing. In the past few days, she’d hardly slept, focused on one thing or another, unable to break her concentration. Her body, however, didn’t want to move and was pure dead weight at this point. 

She rolled up the sleeves to her shirt, tracing her Dark Mark. Again she missed her Lord. At night she’d pace about thinking impatiently how she had to get back to him, how he needed her for the war! A war she might be desperately missing. 

Bellatrix glanced up, Jack at the helm, and the sun’s rays falling on him correctly. All he did was stare at a compass and then adjust the rudder as needed. Yet, somehow she couldn’t look away. Her eyes traced his outline. She repeatedly blinked, snapping herself out of it, going back to staring at her mark. The snake tattoo coming down to her hand, giving her an expression that can only be read as smug. 

“Don’t get any ideas,” she said. Then she realized she was talking to a tattoo and dropped her head into her hands. “I need to get out of this heat. It’s driving me mad.” Yes, blame the heat on why she couldn’t stop staring at Captain Sparrow. 

* * *

He was absolutely infuriating. That stupid smirk on his lips mocked her. Jack had been at the helm watching her but then switched to trailing around the ship in her proximity. Bellatrix had pulled out her wand and threatened him for a rematch, which his smirk just widened into a grin at the thought. She wouldn’t mind seeing him duel again. It was mildly intoxicating seeing that cunning mind she’d heard about from the crew work. She wanted to taste his power again in his spells and wanted him to feel hers. 

Jack took her hand into his, and pushed her wand down, away from his neck. “Another time love. But we’ll have one. I promise your murderous little head that.” He looked her up and down, giving her an approving nod and wink. A smirk on his lips as always.

She licked her lips and watched him strut away. He wasn’t wearing his coat, and she could watch his build. Heat filled her body, and she couldn’t deny her lust. It was only lust though. It couldn’t be anything more. Jack was just power in an attractive body with a smirk she wanted to kiss away.

* * *

The sky finally clouded over, and the storm nearly upon them. Bellatrix tended to each and every rope, anxiously looking each other for imperfections, and adjusting them even if they were sound. Even with the wind picking up she could hear Jack and William having a discussion over by the helm. She made the mistake of looking up, catching his gaze, and unable to break away. Jack smiled at her, and it even seemed genuine, if you could truly trust him. She’d learned these past few days he was a tricky one, and damn it, it was enticing. 

A heat picked up in her cheeks against the cold wind. Bellatrix looked at the deck, groaned in frustration, and used her frustration to tighten a line. _Why does he have to look at me like that!_

* * *

 

Nightfall came with the storm on their heels. It was inevitable that it would be on them by the next day. It was the perfect time to drink when tomorrow could bring your possible death. Bellatrix made one last round across the deck. The grey clouds in the sky didn’t ease her anxiety, so she made a second round. 

Her back hit against the mast as she stopped to center herself. She hated when it stormed. Even if she was in better physical condition, she still had limits, and storms pushed those too far. 

“What wrong love,” came Jack’s voice. 

Bellatrix glanced up. He stood before her, coat off, hat off, two bottles of rum in his hands. “What,” she hissed. Maybe if she acted hostile, he’d go away. That’s what she wanted, for him to go away?

Jack didn’t say anything. He pushed a bottle of rum into her hands and tipped his head for her to follow. Bellatrix glanced down at the bottle. It was indeed from the crate she fucked Anamaria over. A smile crested on her lips, and a smugness washed over her. She uncorked it and took a sip, watching Jack walk to his cabin. He stood in the doorway, waiting silently. It was unusual for him to be so quiet. 

She relented and walked up to him. He smiled, looking proud of himself, and lead her in. Nothing much changed about the captains quarters, mind it was a bit messier. Jack’s coat and hat hung off a desk chair in the corner. He pulled up a seat for her and him, propping his feet up on the middle table. She sat cross-legged beside him. 

“Now what do you want?” She asked, gulping down more rum. 

Jack smiled and said, “who said I want anything, love?” He watched her, and his gaze held some warmth in her stomach, though she’d blame the alcohol. 

“That gaze does,” she mumbled. 

Bellatrix kept quiet but drank away the whole bottle, as did Jack. There wasn’t anything to talk about, he knew everything he needed to know about her, and maybe too much already. The bottle dropped to the floor, and she rolled up her sleeves, picking at the fabric. Eyes tracing her Dark Mark, as a reminder to control her hormones. “You want to say something to me, so say it before I hex you.” 

Jack smirked, leaning forward, the bottle sloshing in his hand. How she finished before he did, was short of a miracle. Jack could drink any sailor away. He didn’t speak, just glared at her with a smug expression. 

She jumped out of her seat, her throat suddenly dry and her muscles tight. Bellatrix towered over him. “If this game is done, I’ll be going… Cap’n…” she spat the words out, feeling sour and a sting to her tongue as she did. Though she did admire how the light caught his eyes correctly, giving them this amber glow to the rich earthy color of his irises, and his annoying but attractive wry grin perfectly fit with his features. Bellatrix said she was leaving, yet her feet did not move. She stood in place, glaring down at him, and his smile only growing. 

“Why don’t you stay a bit longer,” he said, his gruff yet charming voice filling her ears. He took his feet down from the table and sat with them spread slightly apart. He took a sip, not taking his eyes off her. 

The ship swayed dramatically, the storm brewing probably caused the waves to act violently. For whatever reason it may be, drunk Bellatrix swayed with it, and lost her balance, tripping, falling, catching herself inches from Jack’s face; the smuggest grin on his lips. 

Her fingers clenched the chair until her knuckles were blanched white. Bellatrix closed her eyes and internally screamed. Everything she knew told her not to, but thoughts be damned, she could always blame it on the drink. That’s what she told herself repeatedly every time she passed Anamaria. Jack’s warm breath heated her neck, and he sat perfectly still. He was toying with her, clearly, but this little game they’ve played had gone on too long. 

Bellatrix put her hand to his cheek, down his jaw, and pulled his chin towards her, planting her lips firmly on his. Damn, she’d wanted to do that for what felt like forever. He tasted like alcohol, which she didn’t mind, could’ve been worse. The spices of the rum lingering on his lips. Jack kissed her back, and well, better than any man had ever kissed her. For a moment she lost herself, and straddled across his lap, falling deeper into the kisses. The ship rocked, but she could hardly feel it. Bellatrix was already dizzy enough. 

His hands curled around her hips, and his bottle of rum thudded to the floor. They pushed up her shirt, rubbing circles into her stomach. Bellatrix continued to kiss him, part of her wondering if it was out of spite. Would this be like all those times with Rodolphus when they couldn’t stand each other, so they simply fucked until they got over it? Were these kisses she placed on his lips angry? Bellatrix was a madwoman, she was born from fury, but she didn’t want them to be. For once Bellatrix didn’t want anger. Jack’s hands crawled up her body, and she broke apart from him, removing her vest and shirt. They were tossed somewhere in the cabin; she’d find them later or steal Jack’s clothes. She placed another kiss on his lips. Maybe she was doing this to escape. Yes, that’s an answer she’d settle with. 

She wrapped her arms around his neck, grinding herself against his lap. His hands reached her breast bindings, tugging on them. She stopped her kisses, holding her breath, and freezing her hips. “No,” she whispered. He wouldn’t listen. She knew Jack wouldn’t. Rodolphus didn’t, and neither did the Dark Lord, yet Jack’s fingers retreated, traveling back down her abdomen. 

Bellatrix leaned back, staring at him, her lips parted, trying to say something but unable. He met her eye quickly but darted it away even faster. 

The ship lurched again, knocking them both out of the chair. They tumbled down onto the floor in a tangle of limbs. Thunder cracked, and lightning crackled in the window. The hard pattering of rain droplets bombarded it. 

“All hands on deck,” Jack said reluctantly. He gave her a sorry look before heading out into the rain. 

She rolled onto her back and beat her palms against her forehead. Anger, confusion, maybe even regret poured into her. _What was that? What the bloody hell am I doing?_ Bellatrix day up, hunched, wrapping her arms around her knees. Her head rested on them, and she breathed heavily. Heavy, her body felt heavy. She hunched further in on herself, nails pushing in through her thin trousers. Her grip increased until she couldn’t take the pressure much longer. _Breathe_. She couldn’t. 

Her situation weighed down on her: far from home, lusting after muggles and half-bloods, a lowlife pirate of all things, with a vague promise of getting back. She gritted her teeth until it hurt. Bellatrix swallowed a scream, and a few hot tears streaked down her burning cheeks. She missed the Dark Lord even if he would just stare at her until she sobered up. It was times like this she missed Alecto. She’d cuddle up to her and kiss her until a smile came across her lips again. Bellatrix hid her face. It had been forever since she admitted she missed Alecto, thought about what they had, what she destroyed, but the Dark Lord was right she was a distraction. Though, so was he. So was Jack Sparrow. Everything was a distraction. She wasn’t moving fast enough, working fast enough. She should’ve been home by now; ayear in the past and nothing. 

Bellatrix stood and stumbled as the ship rocked. She caught herself on the table, righting herself. Her shirt and vest were nowhere to be found, and she rifles through the drawers finding a new one. Maybe it was Jack’s, perhaps it wasn’t. What did she care? Bellatrix exhaled sharply and tossed the middle table over. It crashed down, and she’d blame it on the waves. Her fingers coiled into a fist. “ _Destroy his fucking cabin,_ ” she thought to herself. She shook with heat pumping through her. One last sharp exhale, she turned on her heels to join the rest of the crew in trying to survive the storm. 

* * *

The ocean smacked against the hull for a grasp to swallow the ship, named the _Interceptor_ , in its watery jaws. 

Jack steered from the helm and how in the blazes he could find any hope of navigation in this, puzzled Bellatrix. She, however, had worse things at hand than bloody Jack Sparrow. The wind pushed hard against the sails and one after another the ropes came undone. Bellatrix made a mental note to terrorize the crew later—for now she tried to remedy the problem best she could. 

“How can he -- place that can't -- found, -- compass -- doesn't point north?” Came Will’s voice over the whipping wind and hiss of the sea. His words were somewhat lost, and so was Gibb’s reply;

“Ain't -- find north, are we?”

_Something unique about this compass then._ Bellatrix cleared her mind after that to just react to whatever the ship needed.

She caught a rope that needed tending near the helm. Jack looked down at his compass repeatedly and smirked.

“What puts you in such a fine mood Captain Sparrow,” Bellatrix yelled, fighting with a rope like it a squirming snake.

He glanced over her way, and his smile broadened. “We’re catching up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Screams because Tia Dalma* She is my favorite to write besides Bellatrix. Tia is a fucking gem.


	6. Betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Violence, Abuse, Rape Mention, Bellatrix just snaps completely and has a full mental breakdown so be prepared for that, Blood (lots of it.)

**Part One: By Blood And Curses**

* * *

 

A stunning fog clung to waves as the floated into a shipyard. Eerie, how the _Interceptor_ creaked as if in distress amongst the wreckage of other unfortunate vessels. Just below the surface, she could vaguely see the husks of sunken ships, though the fog quickly swallowed any visual. Bellatrix stood on the railing, holding onto a rope ladder, trying to peer out beyond the mist for any semblance of direction and location. This shipyard had a familiarity and memories of previous trips to the island confirmed it. 

“I’d say we're nearly there,” she said. It wasn't directed to anyone, save maybe herself. Anxiety was again clinging to her bones. Various thoughts of home pressed in her mind, and the idea proved how annoyingly out of reach return was. 

Tia Dalma was her only chance now. She was the safe bet at the very least. Barbossa has yet to prove his prowess, curse or not, she had her trepidation about trusting him. Returning to her Lord was the goal, and any risk must be taken, but Barbossa was not an option anymore. Whatever connection she had to Tia stood a point of interest as well, and she was powerful. Bellatrix shivered thinking about her. Yes, Tia was the new chance and only option.

Bellatrix swallowed, stomach clenching at the thought of if she returned, when would she? Would it be too late? Would the war be over? What punishment awaited her for fleeing even if it was not intended?

The ship rocked with the sea, swaying beneath her feet, and she lost balance. Bellatrix’s grip on the rope helped keep her from falling overboard, but she collapsed backward from dizziness. 

Someone caught her just as her feet left the railing. Strong arms wrapped around her, and a chin posted on the top of her head. 

“Careful love,” Jack said. His arms held Bellatrix aloft, and he helped right her stance. He turned her around, tipping her chin with his thumb. A smirk rode on his lips and a smooth tone to his voice, “Can't go falling for every man you meet.”

“Wipe that smirk off your face,” she hissed. 

Jack gave her a quizzical gaze. He retracted his hands and rested them on his hips, stepping to stand beside her, leaning on the rope. “Been to the island before,” he asked, looking out into the fog. 

She leaned, back against the railing, and wiped her hair from her face. She was sweating, yet it wasn’t that hot. Her nerves were getting the better of her. Bellatrix rested her head in her hands, rubbing her eyes, and trying to soothe away an instant headache.

She looked over at him, catching a look of concern on his face. Bellatrix crossed her arms and rested back. “Enough to know the cave system, not enough to find the island by myself. Barbossa kept the location mum.” 

Jack said nothing, his eyes didn't leave the fog, and then he turned to saunter away. Bellatrix watched him go. He walked with the sway of the ship, and it was almost visible the turning cogs in his brain. Jack just had an aura about him. He was always calculating, and that did not aid in easing Bellatrix. Though it proved his intelligence, and she could not deny that. Their duel helped prove how strategic he was. His power came from that, and it was a refreshing change to just raw, unchecked strength, like her. 

“Gibbs,” Bellatrix heard from behind her. It was William’s voice. 

Gibbs acknowledged him, and Will asked, “How did Jack come to be at odds Barbossa?”

Bellatrix turned her head to look back at them. This was a story she'd like to hear as well. Barbossa hadn't exactly been forthcoming with information, but it wasn't as if she'd asked. Recovery and survival were more important than trivial how's and why’s of the captain. Though she’d inquire about something small to him and he’d roll his eyes, inconvenience. 

The wind picked up slightly, brushing the hair into her face. She pulled it back and took a cloth from her wrist to keep it in place. Strands still fell in view, refusing to cooperate. 

Gibbs answered Will. “Jack and Barbossa at one point could be called friendly, back before Barbossa set a mutiny against him. Back when Jack was cap'n of the _Black Pearl_.”

Bellatrix turned on her heels, snapping to stand straight and looking right at them, gaining the attention of Gibbs and Will. “He failed to mention that,” she said, letting her eyes fall back onto Jack. “Captain of the _Black Pearl_ you say?” She mused. Her mind turning with paranoia. 

Barbossa never mentioned this. He was friendly enough to her if you could call it that, more of an annoyed father, but the light was starting to shine on his manipulative ways. She shivered and crossed her arms, digging her nails into her forearm. The more she thought about it, the more Barbossa clearly reflected her own father. 

“And so Jack was mutinied,” Bellatrix said, egging Gibbs on to finish the story. Her arms dropped to her side, making fists, and a glare pointed at him.

“They were after the treasure of Isla De Muerta, and the crew wished for equal share, so the location of the treasure itself should be given up. Jack being but a humble pirate and a good man did so, end up paying for it on a deserted island with nothing but a single shot. Not for hunting though. A single shot starts to look real friendly once you're starving and dying of thirst.”

Bellatrix stared intently at the wood of the deck. “So Barbossa got Jack to reveal the location of the treasure to then remove him from the equation. How very Slytherin of him—how very Black of him.” Her stomach tightened again, threatening to force out what little of her breakfast she had. Simultaneously her skin heated and cooled. The small sway of the ship intensified, and the world spun. Her mind raced again, flinging from one end of an anxious spectrum to the next.

“ _Barbossa will throw anyone away to get what he wants,”_ said one thought. _“What says he won't do the same to you?_ ” 

There were no clear boundaries she could find. With the Dark Lord, failure meant punishment. Failure was clearly defined. However, with Barbossa, there were varying examples too great really draw a conclusion. Failure was not defined, and neither was betrayal, but from what she'd experienced, like with the Dark Lord it would most likely end in death. 

She was lost in thought, unable to catch the rest of Gibbs’ story. Though she did catch mention of sea turtles randomly. Instead, Bellatrix was focused on her breathing. It was quickening in pace as her thoughts continued to slingshot in her head. 

Anger brimmed right under the surface, her throat dry and she trembled. Was it at Barbossa not trusting her? The longing to return home, to her own time, to war, just grew. The Dark Lord trusted her. He had to! She earned it! Bellatrix forced away the feeling of doubt, the break in her sense of security as the Dark Lord’s most loyal. She'd earned trust with Barbossa as well, yet he kept her in the dark. He’d earned nothing from her though, yet she tried to give it any on the basis they were family. But never trust a Black. Bellatrix’s stomach churned. 

“You all right?” Jack asked. 

Bellatrix didn't respond. She did, however, glare at him, throwing all her unease and hate into her stare. 

“Ah is the merry murderess finding she's expendable then? Not having a share in say curse as her dear captain?” Jack smirked with a glint to his brown eyes. 

Bellatrix jerked and punched him in the gut. “Just shut up!”

He bent over groaning and holding his stomach. “I take that as a yes… My you're stronger than you look.” Jack quirked his mouth. He retracted from her, looking her up and down, hand on his stomach still. 

She went to punch him again, just less coordinated this time, anger taking the wheel of her mind, and thus Jack caught her hand before it impacted him. His grip wasn’t painfully tight, but firm.

“Love, what's got you ticking?” He asked a quirk to his brow and a sad twitch to his lips. A worried expression broadened on his face.

Bellatrix pulled, but Jack wouldn't let her hand go. Both his hands cupped hers. 

“Let go,” she commanded. Bellatrix jerked, but he wouldn’t let go. “Jack, I swear, I will gut you if you do not let go of me.” She shook in his grip, and her shoulders fell weak. Her chest ached with a strange fluttering as her anxiety spiked. A tang of iron hit her tongue as she bit her lip. She refused to acknowledge the tear that dripped from her eye. “Jack, let me go,” she said quietly. 

He hesitated, but eventually eased his grip enough she could pry herself from him. 

Bellatrix grabbed the collar of his jacket, pulling him to her. In a low whisper, she threatened, “I suggest you keep your questions to yourself Jack Sparrow,” Bellatrix said. “There's nothing you need to know, and it will lengthen your life.”

Jack made a noise as he pondered; his fingers tapping against his chin, eyes locked onto her. The cogs in his head turning, and his expression souring by the second. Something scared him or upset him, but he said nothing. She didn’t like him looking upset. It didn’t wear well on his face. Bellatrix groaned, angry at the thoughts of him. She was about to snap at him again, her hand already glided towards her sword but; 

“We've arrived,” came Will’s voice from across the deck.

Jack’s focus shifted, checking the compass and confirming Will’s outburst. Bellatrix’s hand still gripped the hilt of her blade. Her muscles ached from their tenseness, and she relaxed, a burning pain swelling, then dissipating in them. 

Her nerves were getting the better of her, and she fought to clear her mind. She found way to the railing to look down on the sloshing waters below. A pain her stomach threatened her breakfast returning again. Dizziness came back, and Bellatrix rested her head rested in her hands. 

“You are to stay here,” said Jack. 

“Don't trust me?” Bellatrix didn't look away from the water. “Or does dear Jackie care about me?” There was no reply, so she turned to face him. “Which is it?” She growled.

Jack stood quietly, eyeing her like he always did. He only observed her, thinking. What the bloody hell was he thinking? She grit her teeth.

He finally opened his mouth. “Unfortunately for you my dear, you're a bit of a liability at this point. I'd fancy Will distrusts you more than I do. You may be Devil Black, but you still can die. We’re still outnumbered. Said William does anything stupid, and it comes to arms in there, you can't trust me to save you from the hell-bound undead scoundrels—who might think you’ve deserted them, truth or not.”

Was he indeed that clueless to her loyalties or did he sense her mistrust in Barbossa? She didn’t even know her loyalties anymore. “So what? I just sit here while you take Will inside?—”she pulled him close and whispered—“I have a feeling you’re not giving him over this soon. What are you thinking?”

His eyes darted around, a quick mouth quirk, and he said, “Leverage. I need my ship back.” There was something else unspoken he wanted, and the sharp glint of anger that flashed in his eyes, she suspected revenge. Barbossa did snap his wand, which is just as important as any body part to a wizard. He left him on an island to die. Yes, revenge definitely was. Bellatrix wanted to see that. What would his cunning mind come up with? The curiosity ate at her. 

She released him, and they broke apart. “I still think I should go, in case William does act rashly. Even if our magic is useless against them, I can still get us out easily.”

That caught Jack’s waning attention. His head jerked to look back at her. “Magic is useless against them?” 

Bellatrix nodded, crossing her arms. “It’s bloody annoying. Since they’re basically undead and can’t feel, most of my curses are ineffective. A stunning charm might be the only useful spell against them. I haven’t dared to see if a shield charm works to block musket balls. I’m reckless, but not stupid.” She leaned back looking over the crew, and then back to Jack, who had walked off to talk to William and Gibbs. 

“If one of us falls behind, stick to the code,” he said. He gave a look to Bellatrix, not so subtly pointing to her. “And keep her to it.”

She shifted her weight sassily, annoyed. She knew that if a pirate falls behind, he’s left behind. Why Jack thought she needed to be watched and reminded of that, she didn’t know. Maybe it was the small looks they gave each other, the smirk he gave her when he caught her gaze or the fact she was kissing him so needily just a few days prior. “ _It’s just physical,_ ” she reminded herself. Though she couldn’t deny she found his mysterious way of thinking highly curious and continually drawing her in every time he had that puzzled look on his face. 

“Jack,” Will said. He pulled at the pirate. “We need to get Elizabeth.” His stance screamed impatience. The way he stiffly paced. 

Bellatrix swallowed a laugh. Elizabeth was probably safe, but maybe she wasn't. If Barbossa thought she was the key, then she’d be safe until the last moment. It only took a few drops of blood. Though Barbossa hasn’t killed anyone as of late, maybe he’ll kill her. Bellatrix shrugged to her thoughts as Jack wandered off with William and down into a boat. She watched them row to shore or more Will row. Jack sat smugly from how he sat, watching the cave as they entered.  

Then it became a waiting game, and Bellatrix hated waiting. She found her fingertips drumming against the railing of the ship, or herself pacing, practically imprinting a walking pattern into the deck. Gibbs watched her with a pained expression. Most of the crew wore a similar appearance—weary Devil Black got bored and simply murdered them all. 

There were two outcomes of this little exchange: Jack, Will, and Elizabeth emerge, or some combination of them, or Barbossa and his crew. Something deep within the pit of her stomach tensed at the thought of Barbossa finding her out here. He’d see this as betrayal. She knew he would. Maybe leaving without a word, was not the smartest idea she’d ever had, seeing as how nothing went according to plan.

The more Bellatrix pushed away her thoughts of him, the more memories of Cygnus wormed their way into the battlefield of her mind. Various memories became confused and blurred, was that something Cygnus did, or Barbossa? Her muscles tenses and hating her constant movement and fidgeting. A cramp pulsed in her leg. 

“What's taking so long!” Bellatrix slammed her hand against the mast. The quiet and tranquil atmosphere riled her nerves further. 

She leaned in on it, the pain in her leg spiking through her. Maybe they were all dead, and she was next? She was still so far away from home and slumped against the mast of a ship, Bellatrix almost was ready to give up. Frustration coursed through her and hot angry tears threatened to fall from her eyes. She wiped her face, dragging her nails across it. She was weak for crying. Her teeth bit at her lip, and she felt the scar across her nose. Maybe Barbossa killing her was the better option. Her Lord wouldn’t suffer her excuses if she returned, and Cissy having no closure hurt, but perhaps it was for the best. They were already so distant, despite Narcissa mothering her. Gods, Bellatrix missed her sisters, both of them. Pain rippled from her chest, and the tears threatened to fall again. 

“Here they come,” Gibbs said. He pointed to the mouth of the cave with a small boat and two figures within. Neither of them was Jack. 

“Fuck,” Bellatrix whispered. A prickle raised across her spine. Trouble was brewing. No Jack means they were caught. The urge to go after him tugged at her mind. _Why? He’s just a pretty face. That’s all!_ She thought to herself and paced. _But he could be useful… damn it._

Elizabeth came aboard first, climbing hastily, and visibly shook. Her initial reaction wasn't as harsh as hers was to the _Pearl’s_ crew, but all the same, she recognized Bellatrix. The Dark Witch knew this by how Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed, and she straightened her spine. Just as regal, and the thought of Andy crept back in. Bellatrix shook her head. Elizabeth was a different person, a muggle, not her sister, even if Andromeda was a traitor. 

“Where’s Jack?” She asked, hand tapping the hilt of her sword. “Fell behind?” She knew the answer was yes, but William’s small nod confirmed it. Gibbs' face fell somber, more impacted than any of the other crew. A frown crested on her own lips as well.

“You brought Jack Sparrow?” Elizabeth asked will, voice raised. Her eyes traveled to Bellatrix. “Though somehow I’m not surprised seeing as she’s here.”

“Stick to the Code,” Gibbs said, giving a pointed glare to Bellatrix, as instructed. She merely rolled her eyes. 

Why would she go after Sparrow? It was simply physical. No amount of curiosity was worth being killed over, yet she still had an itch to go after him. She leaned against the rail, head rested against a hand, rubbing her temple. The feeling of his lips ghosted across hers, the faint taste of spiced rum still lingering. The more she thought about how much she didn’t want him, the more the urge to go after him grew. Somehow she’d miss his smirk, and the strange way he’d look at her while thinking. Bellatrix shook her head. _No, I’m not doing this._ Yet, she took a step closer to the helm, looking at the cave entrance. Jack has absolutely no chance, but why did she care? Her feelings, no she refused to think she had any, these… urges, would get the better of her. 

The crew prepared to leave, and Bellatrix took a look around: to William, Elizabeth, Anamaria, and then Gibbs. She shook her head and groaned. With speed she ran towards the railing, jumped up, and formed into smoke, gliding through the air off to rescue the most frustrating man she’d ever met.

Her feet skidded across the treasure covered rocky floor as her body collected again into a singular shape, ultimately halting too fast and she fell into a pool of water. The coolness stung at her skin, but she stood back up nonetheless. She flexed her arms, observing the situation. They stood in a circle, surrounding Jack at gunpoint. Barbossa aiming his at Jack as well. Their heads turned to her noises, and a few changed their aim to her. Bellatrix pulled out her wand. It seemed now would be the time to test the shield charm against musket balls. 

“So, come to join us again, Bellatrix?” The way Barbossa said her name, what hauntingly inviting, too calm and courteous. The stench of betrayal hiding behind his tone. “Odd coincidence, isn’t it Jack, that you show up here once my niece comes back to me.” Barbossa didn’t take his aim of Jack, but his eyes watched them both. His crew cleared a small path for him to see. 

Jack looked between her and Barbossa, eyebrow and mouth quirked. “That would be coincidence only, mate.” He let his last swipe over her linger for a few seconds too long. “Such praise of your devil woman, she’d kill me straight up if she knew our history. Wouldn’t you love?” His eyes pleaded for her to play along, a small smirk you could only see if you looked for it on his lips. 

Bellatrix licked her lips and rolled her wand in her fingers. Her eyes kept on Jack, lips pulled into a tight grimace. Knowing Barbossa, he wouldn’t fall for anything. Damn the way Jack looked at her. Her cheeks warmed.

“I can kill him now if you want.” She raised her wand. Yes, she could do that, she should have done that from the start. _He’s just a stupid half-blood. The real you would have killed him from the beginning, and all those fucking muggles._ Her grip was sweaty, and it must have been the anger sending trembles in her arms. _Stop looking at me like that Jack! Stop looking fearful! Let this happen!_ She ground her teeth, unable to unlock her jaw to scream the killing curse. Jack just stood there, hands up in surrender, with a pleading look, his smirk gone, replaced by furrowed brows and grimace. _I am The Dark Lord’s first lieutenant. I kill people like Jack. Why am I hesitating?_

Barbossa looked between the two, and he probably saw how strained she was, shaking in place, and blinking back angry, heated tears. “I see the betrayal runs deeper than I thought.” He raised the gun higher aiming right for Jack’s head. Barbossa whispered to the quartermaster and a few others. They broke off from the group and stalked towards Bellatrix. 

Syd picked Bellatrix up easily and tossed her over his shoulder. Other free members took her wand and weapons, lingering their touches in other places they shouldn’t dream about touching. She fought against his grip, but he was too strong. It would be useless to try to injure him, no feeling, and nothing would subdue him. She kept trying anyway, fighting until she was too tired. The last thing she heard was the echoing voices of Barbossa asking for Jack’s last words.

Jack replied, “I know why the girl didn’t work!” 

Then a hit to the back of her, cracking hard against her skull, and the world went black. 

* * *

Darkness, and then a faint crack of light as her eyes fluttered open. Her body rested against the floor and hull, sitting in stagnant water from the sea, arms slack, but not to her side, up above her head. Pain chafed against her wrist. A glance up and a tug revealed chains. Bellatrix sucked in a breath, pain radiating from her chest. She couldn’t breathe. Forcing her breaths didn’t help, only caused more pain and flutters to spread and thumped in her. Her heartbeat turned erratic. Fear. Anxiety. 

The sloshing of the waves against the hull turned to distant crashes against rocks. A crack of thunder split her skull, a headache blooming, and she looked up again. She was chained to the cage of the brig. Bellatrix ripped her arms down, the chains not budging, only scratching her skin. Her skin easily split as it barely healed from Azkaban. Warm blood trickled down her arms, yet she felt cold, so very cold. Her insides twitched and shivered painfully as goosebumps took her skin. 

Bellatrix bit her lip, tossing her head back, and let out a rageful scream. It burned her throat, ripping at her vocal cords. She struggled to get her arms down and refused to stop. “ _not again._ ” Her mind frantically repeated. _Let me go!_ Her scream ceased abruptly turning to a sob. Her face flushed and she grit her teeth, pain spiking in her chest, arms, wrists. She refused to sob more, but painful memories poured in. Her lord punishing her, everything she feared of him loomed over like she was a small child. 

The noises of the storms of Azkaban filled her ears, deafening her, the entirety of her surroundings washed away by the crashing sea to rock sounds, raging thunderstorms. Bellatrix curled in on herself, pushing her forehead to her knees painfully, to distract the ache in the rest of her body. The tears spilled over, hot, and they burned her skin. She hated crying. This was weakness. This fear she felt, weakness. 

“ _You are weak,_ ” came her Lord’s voice, faceless, bodiless, but hovering right over her shoulder. “ _Pathetic, weak, worthless. I shouldn’t have saved you. You’ve failed me._ ”

Bellatrix sobbed harder, trying to push away his voice. She attempted to pull up memories of her childhood, of her sisters, when she was strong and caring for them. Pain like fire rippled through her entire body, like flames injected into her blood. Every nerve burned as she remembered his curses for punishments. Tears fell harder, and her eyes tightly snapped shut. She jerked at the restraints relentlessly, trying to break free. She groaned loudly, pulling as hard as she could, her muscles burned from so much strength, yet no avail. Her back hit the hull, but instead of feeling like wood, it was stone, like her cell in Azkaban. 

She forced herself to stand, and she stared her bloody wrists, turning her rings inward, trying to use the blood as lubricant to slip out. It stung, but she already was riddled with it. Frustration and anxiety spiked again, and with a deep breath, she ripped her arms free from the manacles. She screamed as they caught her skin, tearing it worse. Bellatrix put her bloody hands to her face, holding her head, screaming into them. Then she cried again, overwhelmed by the physical feelings and the anxieties. The storms of Azkaban has lessened to be replaced with dead silence. That was almost worst. _I’ve failed the Dark Lord. I failed, failed, failed, FAILED._ She dragged her fingers down her face, streaking the blood with them. She scratched at her arms unable to tell if it was any effective, there was already so much blood covering them. _Hurt yourself, you deserve it. You failed._ She scratched harder, pulling off layers of the skin until blood and plasma beaded in the wounds. Bellatrix fell back against the hull, head in her hands again, and she curled in on herself. Her head pressed against her knees, and she sobbed again. _I deserve the pain. I am weak. I am too weak to be of use. I’m fucking crying. I deserve the pain._ The pain made it real though. Marks on her arms and body made it real and tangible. No matter how much her parents thought she was crazy for her stupid outbursts, sadness, pain, anxiety; the marks made it real. 

Her fingers traced the wand holder and the rest of her clothes, no weapons or wand. Bellatrix threw her head back, tears still coming, though her chest stopped heaving. She thought about Narcissa; how they left it with the wounds still open and sore, too much space between them to make up. Then thoughts about Draco and Andromeda, how she missed out on so much of their lives. She’d never admit it aloud but Andromeda gave the best hugs, and she desperately needed one now. _Weak._ She rolled up her sleeves, trying to keep her shirt as little bloody as she could. Though she wiped her arm against her forehead, sweat and blood smeared across both her face and arm. There was a pool of blood stains saturating the fabric anyway. 

Bellatrix’s limbs ached, tired from her thrashing, though she forced herself to stand. One step forward, and she rushed into the cage door, full body slam. She crashed into it, but it did not budge. Again, and again she slammed into it. Her body trembled from frustration, and the anger of Barbossa betraying her, though she did it first, really what did it matter, they both were Blacks, and what did family even mean to the Most Noble House. Did it mean, shut up and listen to what she or he’d say, respect them or perish, or undying loyalty to each other? The latter being incorrect. She stopped slamming into the cage and took to banging her fists, blood beading on them as the rough edges scratched at them on impact. Her arms ached worse, but honestly, what did it matter. She was trapped. Even if she escaped as smoke, where would she go? Her only ally could be dead, and she had no idea where Elizabeth would be headed. Bellatrix let another rageful scream rip from her, and it turned into a cackle, she laughed at herself for being so ridiculous. Barbossa will just kill her, and maybe her miserable little existence would be finished. The Dark Lord would do that when she returned if he did not believe what she said. Every option sounded worse than the last, and she just fell to her knees cackling with tears streaming down her face.  

The voice of her Lord came back, whispering everything she hated about herself, but in his voice, because it wasn’t unlike him to remind her of her faults, and how she’s nothing without him. But that still didn’t stop her love for him. He did save her, he taught her, he cared for her in every physical way she needed. She touched her Dark Mark, caressing it. A sob was let out for him, how she missed him even if it hurt. But the pain was normal, right? Life was pain. Her crying ceased for the moment, and she sat against the hull soaked in seawater, blood, and sweat. Her gaze far off, not really there. She barely noticed the man dragged down into the brig and thrown into the cell next to her. 

“I think there’s a leak,” he said back to the leaving crew members. He sloshed around pacing and thinking.

Bellatrix slid her vacant gaze to him. He sounded like Jack, he looked like Jack. His stupid walk, his stupid but cute mouth quirk, his ridiculous messy hair. Yes, it was Jack. He muttered to himself in the cage. She continued to stare at him, tiredness taking her, and suddenly wanting to cry again. Relief that Jack was near her washed over, but pain also sparked in her chest again. _Filthy half-blood. Look what you’ve done to me. This is your fault..._ Bellatrix bit her lip. How could she blame Jack? Her upbringing and teachings from the Dark Lord told her to blame him, but why? She was the one who couldn’t stop her gazes, she couldn’t resist him, she’s the one who kissed him. Her head spun. Bellatrix didn’t know what to think. Her head rested on her knees, turned to watch him pace. The cogs in his brain visibly turning. What would that weird mind of his come up with as an escape plan, and would he include her in his plans? He shouldn’t. Bellatrix didn’t deserve that. What did she deserve then? _Death._

Jack’s sloshing stopped, and his gaze traveled down onto her. He crept up the cross bars, wrapping his fingers around them. “My, look at you,” he said. “Devil Black all bloodied and broken.” He grimaced a somber look to his face and in his tone. 

Bellatrix sat up, and splashed seawater on her face, trying to wipe all the blood away, and remove the evidence she was even upset. The world couldn’t know, but he’d still see the marks, the wounds all over her arms and wrists. “Bella,” she said. Her head fell back to her knees. “Devil Black no longer exists if I’m not with Barbossa’s loyalties.” _Can’t I just be Bellatrix? Not Devil Black, not the most loyal, not the first lieutenant._

“ _But it’s who you are,_ ” answered her inner voice, the one that sat over her shoulder and whispered horrible things to her. Thoughts meant to harm her, destroy her. 

Jack leaned against the cage separating them. “We need to get out—What happened to you?” His eyes traveled over her body. He must see the cuts. Jack’s entire body languages changed. It went from a stern captain, to almost soft and friendly. 

She tried to stand up, but her limbs refused to function. They were exhausted, she was exhausted. She leaned against the hull, head tilted back, and eyes closed. “I was upset.”

“And now you're covered in your own blood.” He said, something wrong stricken in his voice. 

Bellatrix nodded. “Nothing new there. They’ll get infected too. Bastard took my wand.” She slammed her fist against the hull. “He knew I was chained up for fourteen years! He knew! And he still chained me again!” Her fist tightened until it hurt and she opened her eyes to look up at the manacles, then to Jack. “He knew,” she whispered, soft and broken. Tears threatened to fall again. Damn it, she was so tired of crying. Her eyes stung and were puffy, probably red from swelling and blood. “Get me—” she started, but she couldn’t finish. No, she wouldn’t beg or ask for help, she was a strong witch. She was the right hand of the darkest wizard to live, taught by him! Yet she couldn’t muster the strength for wandless magic: either to unlock the cage or heal her wounds. 

Jack eyed her. Then he leaned back, scanning the surrounding, and pulled out his wand. He unlocked his cell and traipsed over to hers, watching her before opening it magically. Though he stood in the opening gazing at her, that puzzled look on his face. Bellatrix smirked. She liked that face. He was thinking, and maybe she had a chance. She blinked, and he was to her kneeling taking her arms into his hands, looking them over. 

“My,” he started. He ripped off the bottom of her shirt into two pieces, using the sea water to dab at her wounded wrists. “This looks worse up close... That was you screaming, wasn’t it?”

Bellatrix nodded. It was strange, being this close to him again. Weirder still was him being kind. She’d heard stories a few times in Tortuga about Captain Jack Sparrow, a fearsome cutthroat, someone you’d never want to cross, a cruel man, but here he was tending to her wounds. Jack healed the cuts on her arms and knuckles, noting they’d scar. But every spell he tried on her wrists didn’t work. They scabbed over, but still, we’re fairly red and raw. So, he wrapped them in cloth and tied it off at her knuckles. Bellatrix kept her jaw locked. She couldn’t say anything. What could she even say? So she continued to admire the softness to his features, and the kindness in his earthy brown eyes. Though that grimace plastered on his lips stayed, and she couldn’t help but mimic it. 

“If Devil Black is an act, who’s the real Bella? Ey love?” He asked quietly, finishing the last of her bandages. 

“It wasn’t an act,” she snapped. Her hands jerked away from him, and her grimace soured. “I am cruel, and I kill. I torture. I maim. I hurt people. It’s who I am.” 

Jack gave her an incredulous look but didn’t press it. He took seawater into his hands and rubbed off the blood coating her face. His fingers traced her sharp cheekbones, the scar over her nose, and down her lips. “Now we have to get out. The _Pearl_ is coming up on the _Interceptor_ , a battle is going to ensue, and we can escape under its cover.”

It sounded genuine, the soft yet intelligent way he spoke, but she wondered, why help her? Her question must have spilled from her lips as he smirked;

“I’d say we both still want Barbossa’s curse gone, our reasons our own. It would be foolish not to have an ally in the midst, especially one like Devil Black, Savvy?” 

She nodded. “Then we have to find William and the medallion. You didn’t tell him about William, right? I heard you try to bargain before I was knocked out.” Bellatrix tried to stand, and Jack took her hand, helping her up. The ship rocked, and she fell into his arms, but she quickly pushed away from him. She fought the urge to lash out against the cage again. Anger boiled in her now that she’d calmed. Barbossa would pay for his crimes against her, and his family connection fueled the vendetta. “If Barbossa doesn’t know, we still have the upper hand no matter how shit the situation gets.”

He raised his hands, forefingers pointing up. “Ah, yes, he has no idea about the name he needs, and so we still have said leverage. Let’s just hope dear William doesn’t do anything too stupid, again.” Jack rubbed the back of his head. She quirked her brow, wondering what William did the first time. 

“I need my sword and pistol, and especially my wand,” she said while waving her finger. “I wouldn’t suppose you’d have any idea where they are?” Bellatrix looked him over. He still had his pistol and sword strapped to his hip. 

A boom blasted, and then a something ruptured through the hull. It turned out to be a flask, but that was the least of their worries. Jack was annoyed and yelled, “Stop blowing holes in my ship!” 

Bellatrix rolled her eyes and told him to focus. She stepped out of the cage, letting the commotion above hide the noises of her looking for her effects. “Damn it, where are they?” She scoured the area looking for them, but even with the aid of Jack’s Lumos, she couldn’t find them. “Must be in the captain’s quarters,” she mumbled. Bellatrix kicked the door to her cage. “Shall we?” She didn’t wait for a response and formed into smoke, heading above and darting under the door to Barbossa’s quarters. 

The first thing Bellatrix did was give the room a good look around. The room was tidy, and her wand and effects sat on the table in the middle. She grabbed them and strapped them on, feeling a bit whole again. Next, she tossed the table over and broke a few chairs, yes they’d be Jack’s again eventually but damn did it feel good. Bellatrix put her wand in the holder, strapping it close and tight to her, not letting it be retaken. She unsheathed her sword and stormed out of the room. 

The _Pearl_ was right up on the _Interceptor_ , it’s crew boarding over to the stolen Navy vessel. Bellatrix transported herself over to the _Interceptor_ , knocking into some pirate, and kicking him overboard. He’d paid his blood, and he could drown for all she cared. Jack had found his way over too, and they met up in the middle swords clashing into the pirate’s threatening one another. Each step and swing they took working in unison. She and Jack made a great team. A smile curled on her lips. _He can swing a sword too. I wonder how he handles another sword. Hm, not the time Bellatrix._

"Find Will," Bellatrix told Jack. Their backs met, a pirate on either side of them, but she took out her wand and stunned her’s, slicing her sword back into the one threatening Jack. “Go,” she ordered. 

They split, heading in opposite directions. Another of the _Pearl's_ crew came upon her and Bellatrix parried, narrowly avoiding being slashed. She pushed him back, and someone took over the fight for her. Bellatrix backed up and caught a glimpse of Elizabeth right behind her, reloading a rifle. She pivoted and struck the pirate creeping up behind her in the jaw. She pulled out her pistol and fired into his face, knocking him back into the waters. A crack sounded, and the mast of the _Interceptor_ snapped, toppling down. Jack narrowly ducked out of the way. She sighed of relief. 

Bellatrix crouched down and grabbed Elizabeth by her shoulders. "Where is William?" she asked. 

Elizabeth looked back to the middle of the deck. "Will," she whispered. 

Bellatrix scanned her, and the glint of the medallion's gold wasn't about her neck. She threw Elizabeth aside and bit back a frustrated scream. Then her eyes caught Jack the monkey scurrying across the deck with the medallion jingling in his hands. He traveled across the fallen mast of the _Interceptor_ back to the _Pearl_. 

"Jack!" Bellatrix turned to smoke once again and followed the monkey. Jack Sparrow in tow on the makeshift bridge. The monkey hopped up into Barbossa's arms, handing off the medallion, and gave Bellatrix a sad eye. “Fucking monkey.”

“Thank you, Jack,” Barbossa chuckled. He petted the monkey, and he curled his tail around Barbossa’s shoulder. “Gents, our hope is restored!” He aimed his eye at Bellatrix and Sparrow. Anger brewed beneath them and swirled like a raging sea. 

Her fingers curled into a fist. She gritted her teeth trying to hold back what storm was forming in her. The sting of betrayal grazing every nerve in her body. She shuffled forward, entering his space, and sharp exhales forced from her nose. Bellatrix could hardly breathe, so much anger pulsed through her. 

“Bellatrix–” he started, but was interrupted by her fist impacting his nose. 

Syd and Twigg, a dirty and skinny man but stronger than he looked, grabbed Bellatrix and pulled her back as Barbossa moved his nose back into place. Her wand fell from her hand, and she tried to rip herself from their grip, but every time she got a limb free they’d grab hold again. Someone hit her head, and it disoriented her enough that her struggles slowed. She fought anyway, even if it was futile. She would not be captured and chained, again. _Never again!_

Barbossa gazed over her as he strode up, a sneer of disappointment portrayed on his lips. He didn’t say a word. She lunged forward, just to be reeled back. She spat in his face and continued to try to break free. He merely wiped his face with grace and glared back at her. 

“She’s locked up with the rest,” he growled. He took her wand from the floor, fiddling it in his hands, and then snapped it across his knee. 

Bellatrix’s stomach dropped, and her breath stopped. She couldn’t breathe, and her body hurt all over. Pinpricks of fear took over while equally tainting the world around her in red. Her body fought against those holding her on instinct, and she broke free, only to be tackled down to the floor of the deck. Barbossa tossed the wood shards overboard and Syd holding her jaw, forcing her to watch. 

The crew of the _Interceptor_ was bound and brought aboard the _Pearl_. Bellatrix had a view from the floor. Every effort she made to stand was refuted as Syd and Twigg pushed her back against the deck. 

"Let the traitor up," Barbossa barked. His attention turned to Elizabeth, passing right over Bellatrix as if she was a mere annoyance.

She was pulled up and thrust against the mast. Her head still whirling from the earlier strike. Pintel brought over a rope and bound her hands. She kneed him hard in the stomach. It was of no use, and he continued tying her up with no indicator of inconvenience. _Damn curse._ The rope stung as it was tightly wrapped against her wrists. The _Interceptor_ sunk in the background, and a dread settled in her bones.

Bellatrix eyed the crews and searched for Will, but he wasn't anywhere. Just as the words were about to escape her, they were swallowed by a loud boom of the sinking _Interceptor_ exploding. A large plume of smoke and water rose from the sea where it was, and Elizabeth cried out Will's name. 

"Barbossa!" Bellatrix yelled. "You just killed the man you needed!" Her voice strained in her throat. Her chance to ride him of this curse was gone, her only way of murdering him, gone. Revenge left unsatisfied, and her bloodlust boiled in her veins. Bellatrix stomped forward, to be pushed back by Syd. Her eyes traveled to Jack who looked equally concerned and tried to sweet talk some of the crew.

Barbossa turned to her and quirked a brow, uncaring to what she said. "You've taken advantage of our hospitality once," he said. "Not again." He pushed Elizabeth towards a mob of his crew, and they all grabbed at her body lustfully. 

Bellatrix's blood ran cold in the sun's blazing heat. The sexual intention was clear, and her own bindings weighed down her limbs. _Was she next?_ She fought against the ropes and with pain, slipped out of them. Bellatrix rushed to Elizabeth and pulled her from the grasps of the crew, a sisterly instinct to protect her, all of which she glared at with hatred she'd never felt burn so brightly before. She needed allies, and just Jack was not enough. Elizabeth didn't deserve it either.

"Let her go!" Came a voice. Everyone stopped to turn to see William standing, dripping wet, on the railing. A gun was pointed straight for Barbossa. "She goes free." He commanded. 

"And you are?" Barbossa inquired. His hands rested on his hips, and the look on his face read as fed up.   

Jack jumped into action and tried to salvage the situation, whatever leverage he thinks they still had, was at risk. Bellatrix rolled her eyes as he babbled trying to hide William's identity. She led Elizabeth over to the _Interceptor’s_ crew, patted her shoulder awkwardly. 

Barbossa crossed his arms and looked to Will. "We can't die, so put the toy away boy." 

Jack off to the side mumbled "nothing stupid." He buried his face in his hands when Will spoke;

"I am William Turner, son of Bootstrap Bill Turner. You may not be able to die, but I can!" He pointed the gun to his jaw. 

"There's no reason for that," Barbossa sighed. "Name your terms Mister Turner." He rested his hands on the hilt of his sword. 

Bellatrix licked her lips and watched the exchange, ever so slowly, slinking to the back of the crowd—hopefully unnoticed. She backed into the railing and spun around to look out to sea. Jumping ship was a thought to cross her mind, but not the smartest plan she'd had. The commotion behind her continued, and she drowned it out. Her arm shrieked in pain as Syd grabbed her and pulled to the center again. She struggled to break free, and it was useless against his firm grip. 

"Send her over as well?" He asked Barbossa. 

Bellatrix looked around to see Jack and Elizabeth both being readied to be thrown overboard. She straightened her back. Maybe this could be an escape. Jack had his wand, maybe there was still a chance. She ground her teeth together, palms sweating, and numb, cold tingles took to her body. _I was wrong. He's just like Cygnus._ She waited for Barbossa’s response _He's just like Voldemort too._ It was the first time she’d even thought her Master’s name. When did he become Voldemort to her, and not that Dark Lord? She still must be delirious from her snap. 

Barbossa nodded to Syd and pointed to Jack. "Recognize the island, Jack? It's where we left you on our last little adventure. At least company will be better this time around," he sneered.  

Jack struggled against being pushed near the plank. Elizabeth was already to the end of it, staring down like it was the abyss. Bellatrix kept quiet and watched. Her eyes kept to Barbossa, watching him, and bearing hate. Heat radiated from her, even if she couldn't feel it exactly. To her, it was just uncomfortable tension and anxiety riling within her skin. Her fists wanted to bear down on him, and her arms itched for a blade. 

Elizabeth was knocked into the water for taking too long. Then Jack hesitated until his effects were thrown overboard, and he dived for them. Bellatrix walked to the end of the plank, looked back at Barbossa, throwing all her hate at him.

“You will regret this,” she hissed. Bellatrix formed into smoke and flew to Jack, and Elizabeth, grabbing both of them and pulling them into the air with her to shore.


	7. A Good Team

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Violence, Blood, MORE SMUT (finally the idiots do it), Character Death.
> 
> I swear to the gods Bellatrix is the worst disaster bi I have ever laid my eyes on.

**Part One: By Blood And Curses**

* * *

Her feet hit the soft sand, and she collapsed to her knees. She dropped Elizabeth and Jack to either side of her, thudding softly into the small grains. The sand stuck to her sweaty skin and no amount of wiping helped get it off. Her chest heaved trying to breathe, and she grunted, angry at the situation. 

“Now what,” Bellatrix asked, falling into her back, staring up at the blue sky. It calmed her for a moment. 

Jack stayed silent, but he got up and walked off. She watched him leave, rolling her eyes. Elizabeth trailed behind him too, berating him with tales of his adventures and how he’d got off the island last time, asking about his credibility. She’d never seen Jack so angry. Bellatrix ignored the two bickering and went to the waves and washed the sand off, just standing in the surf. She removed her boots, feeling the squishy wet sand beneath her toes, and the undertow pulled at her—the call of the sea tugging at her magic and soul, beckoning for her to just dive right in. Strangely enough, it felt cut off from her. She stood in the ocean, walking in up to her knees, the crashing of the waves jostling her around, it called out to her, but unreachable even if she stood in it. Her head spun. It was a strange and confusing concept, she just chose to ignore it all together and walked back to shore.

Jack and Elizabeth were in the treeline, still arguing. He jumped on various patches of sandy turf until he opened a trapdoor. Bellatrix stalked up barefoot, arms crossed watching the affair. Her insides riled with something. Betrayal still stung deep, and her body hurt all over. Her hands tightened around her arms.

With a sigh, Jack said to Elizabeth, “I was here for a grand total of three days. Got myself off with some rum runners who kept their cargo here. Seems they're out of business, save thanks to your friend Norrington.” He pulled out various bottles of rum from the hidden compartment. He grunted at her, and handed her a bottle, keeping one for himself, and a blanket over his shoulder.

Bellatrix jumped down into the compartment and ruffled around for her own bottle. She climbed out and stood off to the side. Heat radiated from her like the sun itself, and anyone to close would get burned. Elizabeth stood quietly, staring at the bottle in her hands. Bellatrix drank as much of her as she could and fast. She wanted to just forget all this and pass out. Moving hurt, and she may regret all the flailing about in that cell. 

“So this is it? The grand adventure of Jack Sparrow ended on an island. Marooned with Devil Black? To get pissed drunk on a beach?” Aggravation brimmed in her voice. 

Bellatrix rolled her eyes and drank more before turning to Elizabeth, pointing her finger for emphasis. “I’m not exactly happy either little dove. You are far more annoying than Sparrow, and I’d have a much better chance getting off this godforsaken strip of land without you. I don’t need a gun or a wand to kill you—” Bellatrix pulled out a dagger from her boot, tossing the boot aside—“you best watch yourself.” 

Elizabeth straightened her back but kept her lips pursed. “You don’t scare me.” Bellatrix knew she was lying. “Trapped on an island with the most notorious pirates in the Caribbean, and yet we’re just going to drink rum until we blackout is it?” Elizabeth stormed off to follow Jack. “He’s annoying, and she’s about to self-destruct,” she mumbled loudly to herself. 

“Welcome to the fucking Caribbean,” Bellatrix hissed at her. 

Jack still had a scowl on his lips as he stood on the beach, his gaze far off at dot of the _Pearl_ on the horizon. Bellatrix trailed up behind him. “That’s the second time Barbossa sailed off with my ship and made me watch.” He took a large swig and Bellatrix did too. 

Elizabeth stood yards away from them on the beach staring off into the distance. Bellatrix and Jack hesitated to join her but did. Though she watched Elizabeth with a hateful glare. That woman worked her way under her skin already. She was twitching to just kill her now and make it easy for her and Jack to escape. So what if she resembled her sister, she wasn’t Andy, and for that, her reason to stay alive was waning thin. 

“We could just apparate and leave Elizabeth,” she said to Jack, walking away. “She’s just a muggle. Useless to us now.” 

Elizabeth turned on her heels. “Excuse me? You’ll just leave me to die? I don’t know what I expected from such a foul heartless bitch like you!” She threw her bottle of rum, hitting Bellatrix in the head. It cracked on impact. 

The pain hit seconds after the impact. Something inside snapped, almost physically, a rip in her insides, and a stinging headache pierced her skull. Bellatrix stopped, swiveled, her dagger ready. She dropped her bottle of rum and pounced on Elizabeth, knocking her into the sand, and pushing the knife into her neck. Blood trickled out of the wound, beading around the edge of the blade. Red. Everything was tinted red, and her jaw locked shut, yet Elizabeth lived. _Why are you holding back?_

Someone grabbed her and yanked her up, off her prey. She beat at the body holding her from behind, and grabbing at her wrists. She was forced to twist in their arms, and then Jack kissed her hard, pulling her close to him, cupping her ass, and arching her back. Dagger still clutched in her fists, her eyes fluttered closed, and she kissed him back. He tasted like spices, and it was delicious, enough to distract her angry mind. It wasn’t passion, it was fury. She could feel it radiate over him, and into her. He pulled away for a second to drop the blanket down, unfolding it. Sand smeared across it but barely. His lips came back to hers, hungry for her anger, drawing it out with each kiss. 

Gods he tasted good. Bellatrix lost herself in the kisses. She felt weak in the knees and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“This is the exact opposite time for this!” Elizabeth yelled! She stormed off to somewhere else. _Good riddance. I’ll kill her later._

In the distance, she could hear Elizabeth squeal, “bloody pirates!”

Jack kneeled, pulling her down with him, and laying her on her back. Bellatrix didn’t care, she kept kissing Jack, gliding her tongue over his lips asking for entrance. He pulled away and removed their shirts, hands ghosting over her skin. She liked him shirtless. For a moment she was lost admiring his tattoos, touching them, tracing them with her nails. She still saw red though, her new target being Jack. Her heart pounded in her chest, the beat heard clearly and painfully in her ears. His touches intensified it. It hurt, but she didn’t care, as long as his hand kept moving down. 

Jack kissed her neck and pushed his hips against hers. She ground against him with force. He pinned down her hands and worked the dagger out of her fingers, replaced with his. Bellatrix let out a moan mixed with a growl. His kisses continued down her chest and stomach. He lingered, touching his forehead to her stomach, nipping the skin near her hips. In the brief second he let her go, he magicked away both of their trousers and collected both her hands above her head, using his free one to play with her clit. 

Hot. She was full of angry and aroused heat. Her body reacting to his touch too sensitively, minding swimming in thoughts, and nearly quivering underneath him. She’s wanted this for days that felt like an eternity, and now she had it, him, his fingers touching her, in her.  His mouth found hers again, keeping her sounds to a minimum. 

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she relaxed slightly under his touch, the heat changing from burning in her skin and veins, down into her loins. His touches were perfect and precise, exactly how she wanted to be pleasured like he’d read her mind. His fingers in her pumped at just the right speed, she couldn’t help but rock her hips with them. It was rough but perfect. 

Bellatrix moaned into his lips as he pushed the tip of his cock against her wet entrance. She broke away from him, open mouth, a strangled noise coming from her throat. He was big and stretched her as he pushed in, one hand keeping her still, and the other stroking her clit. Her mind clouded, changing from anger to bliss. He thrust in hard against her, and fast. Both of them working their frustrations out through their movements. Bellatrix moaned into the open air as Jack fucked her. 

_He’s good at everything._ He kissed her neck with open mouth kisses, alternating be sucking and biting her skin. She threw her head to the side knocking into his gently, biting her lip, the pressure and pleasure building up in the pit of her stomach. Jack grabbed her hip, tracing her wetness on her skin, pulling her in to meet his pace. She kissed his forehead and moaned into it. There was no denying it now, she liked this man, as infuriating as he was, and she never wanted this to stop. Though her toes curled as she wrapped her legs around him, his thrusts becoming erratic, and she clenched around him. Bliss, that’s the only thing on her mind, anger forgotten, situation forgotten, just that moment, her escape, just Jack and her. Bellatrix’s back arched as she climaxed and Jack stilled, moaning against her skin. 

The sun was still high in the sky, and Jack looked at her, gazing into her eyes, his brows furrowed, something wanting to be asked. She ignored whatever it was and pulled him into a deep kiss. She wanted more, and she would have it. Her arms wrapped around his back as he started again, dragging her nails across his skin. They fucked all day until Bellatrix collapsed from exhaustion. It was the most peace she’d ever felt, and she fell asleep across his chest, for the first time absent of anger. 

* * *

Smoke tickled at her nose as she awoke. Whatever she laid on was warm, and breathing? Bellatrix sat up and stretched her muscles, which hurt in every way. A quick glance to her left, and there lied a naked Jack Sparrow, with his arm around her middle. To her surprise, she was also naked. Her hazy mind couldn’t really place where they were. It was a vacant beach… And then she remembered. Jack pulled her off Elizabeth, and kissed her, then fucked her. As sore as her body was, she had a pleasant feeling in it too. Though she looked around again and the smell of smoke permeated the air, and she couldn’t locate their clothes. 

Then something soft hit the back of her head. “Looking for these?” It was an annoyed Elizabeth. A giant burning pile of crates, bottles, wood, and palm ferns beside her. 

Bellatrix pulled on her shirt, which thankfully long enough so when she stood covered her bottom privates. She kicked Jack lightly in the ribs, “wake up.” His nose twitched as his eyes fluttered open. 

“What’s that smell?” He mumbled, pulling on a shirt. He didn’t seem bothered at all by the state of his attire or hers. “Rum, burning, burning rum!” He hopped up, staggering and putting his trousers on, running towards to burning pile on the beach. “Why?” he yelled, pointed to no one. 

She pulled her trousers on and tied off her sash. “Yes, why are you burning our only food and drink resources. Do you want us to die quicker?” She picked up Jack’s belt that held his pistol and sword. “If you want to shoot her, I don’t mind,” she called to Jack, tossing his effects besides him. 

He picked up the gun, cocking it, but after a moment of various facial expressions he relaxed and stormed off. As he passed her, he said, “She wants a rescue. We’re good as dead if we get one. Especially you.” That indescribable look he gave her made her cheeks flush. Something swimming in those eyes… What was he thinking? He left her to her musings, walking along the beach muttering to the heavens in annoyance. 

Bellatrix watched Elizabeth sit, and wait. “They’ll be here. I’m the governor's daughter. Half the Navy would be looking for me.” 

The elated feeling she’d had since she awoken dropped. Jack was right, if the Navy showed up, it was a quick death sentence for her, especially if she had wanted flyers in all the major ports. Bellatrix made fists and debated about strangling Elizabeth. It was such a tempting thought to just suffocate her, but what good would that do. So instead, she stormed after Jack. 

She ran across the sand, catching up to him. “If the Navy shows up, how are we going to survive? I could get us somewhere with my smoke ability, but I can’t take passengers that far. Please tell me you know how to apparate.” 

Jack didn’t answer her and kept walking, stumbling ever so often. She pursued, grabbing him by the shoulder and forcing him to look at her. “Jack Sparrow, why can’t you look me in the eye and talk to me?” 

Again, with that look, she just couldn’t describe. He quirked his mouth and finally spoke. “It was lovely yesterday, and I...” he trailed off, peering behind her. “I think we have company.” He pointed to a ship sailing Navy colors on the mast, not too far from the strip of land they were on. 

Bellatrix cursed under her breath and turned back to him. His eyes never left her. Yesterday, she felt something. She didn’t know what it was, but she liked it. She craved more of it. That something strange in his eyes and his face, maybe he’s experiencing the same. Though she knew the stories. Jack slept around with women and men alike, never staying in one bed for too long. _Of course. I’m just another one._ But she wished she wasn’t, and that thought alone struck something different in her. Bellatrix didn’t know if she hated or loved it. 

“I’m going to die one day, might as well be today,” she said. Her back turned to the ship and Jack as she set back towards Elizabeth. Her bones dreaded this, but what other choice did she have? She had no wand, and it was highly unlikely Jack would give his up. They had only one pistol with a single shot and only one sword. She had no idea where her dagger went after yesterday. 

She stood in the shallows, the waves lapping against her legs. She wouldn’t get home. Narcissa would never know what happened or why she left. Her sister wouldn’t know to blame their mother for her disappearance. Draco going through the war and ultimately used by the Dark Lord. It should be an honor for him, but she knew he wouldn’t be able to handle it. Just a feeling she had when she met him. She’d never see the Dark Lord again, feel his presence or power, yet somehow with Jack’s touch lingering in her skin still, that wasn’t as big of an issue as it should have been. Bellatrix should be overcome with anger and sadness that her Lord would so quickly move on without her, yet a hollow feeling came instead. She made fists and kicked at the sand and waves, but for once she wasn’t angry, merely empty. She’d die as Devil Black the pirate, and not Bellatrix Lestrange the Death Eater. That oddly felt better than the latter. 

Boats came ashore with uniformed men armed with muskets so kindly pointed at her and Jack. Bellatrix took a look at Jack, but he seemed as somber and uncomfortable as she was. Both held up their hands in surrender. Though the soldiers let them onto the longboats with Elizabeth, it was a quiet ride to the ship. She peered out at the sea watching, looking anywhere but at Jack, but she could feel his gaze tickle over her at some points. 

This was it. She climbed up onto the Navy ship and on deck was met with more guns in her face. She slapped them away and made room for Jack and Elizabeth to get up. Bellatrix made way towards the mast, leaning her back against it, arms crossed. 

“Mister Sparrow,” came a voice, and the seeming man in charge strode up to them. His face clean-shaven, his skin almost as pale as his light white wig, and his uniform was nicely decorated. “It seems we meet again.”

“Commodore Norrington,” Jack said, tipping his hat. “Out for a rescue mission are we?” 

“It would seem so,” Norrington replied, walking between Bellatrix and Jack. “And who might this be? Some acquaintance of yours Sparrow?” The annoyed and disinterested tone grated her ears.

She snapped her teeth at him. “Menace of the Caribbean,” she hissed. Bellatrix strode up to him, inspecting him closer. He didn’t flinch, no fear in his eyes, nothing she could work with. “Devil Black. Nice to make your acquaintance.” She held out her hand for a shake, knowing it would be rejected. The moment she spoke her title, the guns pointed at her. She rolled her eyes and put her hands up in surrender. 

“Quaint,” Norrington sighed. “You’ve somehow managed to tame a beast Mister Sparrow, but don’t think that’ll save either of you from the gallows.” He called to the man at the helm to make course for Port Royal. He walked up to the helm and Elizabeth jumped into the conversation, Bellatrix had honestly forgotten she was there. Must have been the fact she was taken far away from the danger. 

“What about Will! We have to rescue him!” She said, voice brimming with fear. 

Norrington softened his expression and voice when he addressed Elizabeth. “Mister Turner’s fate is unfortunate, but you’re safe now.” 

Bellatrix kept an eye on their exchange, and something strange and unspoken went between the two. She watched his eye on her and how tender his expression had turned. _He loves her._ Her stomach turned. 

“Do it for me, as a wedding present. Please James,” Elizabeth pleaded. 

He contemplated for a moment, a look of shock on his face. Bellatrix grinned ear to ear. This was heavily amusing. Love was fickle and complicated, and useless, but maybe in this case, useful. From the way James’ mouth kept opening and closing seemed he was just as shocked as everyone else. 

“Does this mean you accept my proposal?” He finally asked. 

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. _Obviously. Muggles. Idiots._

Elizabeth nodded, and James’ demeanor quickly shifted. He commanded to make for Isla De Muerta. His boots traveled to Jack. “You will lead us there, and save for the directions you give, you will contemplate all possible meanings of ‘silent as the grave.’ Your friend here will be put in the brig as she is no use to this adventure and is a liability.” 

Bellatrix huffed and stepped into a defensive stance, but Jack threw up his hands. “She’s well acquainted with the pirates you are after, she has valuable information. You wouldn’t want to sail in blind, now would you, savvy?”

Norrington stood, a cold expression on his face, looking between her and Jack. “Fine, but she is to tell all, and maybe her trip to the gallows would be made less painful than it would be now.” He walked off, leaving the soldiers to direct her and Jack to their temporary posts.

* * *

Bellatrix snuck up to Jack at the helm. It was nearing nightfall, and the shipyard was coming up in front of the ship, Isla De Muerta nearly upon them. 

“Jack,” Bellatrix whispered, watching the men around her. “What’s the plan?” She stood closer to him than she normally would, but she needed the soldiers to not hear. Though she was tempted to wrap her arms around his waist. She shook her head, _focus_. The fact death was easily on the horizon for her must be messing with her head. _Reckless as usual_.

“You need to find weapons.” He adjusted the course as he spoke, letting the creaks of the wood cover his words. “Then I’ll talk my way to getting a ride ashore, you follow with magic.” 

She touched his forearm gently, and he gave her a quick glance. His lips twitched, but he kept them in a tight line. 

“Alright. I’ll wait until the last moment—”

“Opportune moment,” he chuckled. 

_He has a nice laugh._ Bellatrix rolled her eyes and walked off, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

* * *

Bellatrix waited by the mast as the soldiers filed into boats and Jack sweet talked Norrington. They were too far away for her to catch words, but a point to Elizabeth and a reluctant nod to Norrington’s head piqued her interest. Next soldiers grabbed Elizabeth, pulling her into the governor’s quarters. A click of a lock and Elizabeth banged on the glass of the doors. Bellatrix chuckled. _Serves her right._

Jack climbed down and out of view towards the boats. She waited until all those were leaving had before walking to the railing and glancing out to the island. Gun’s still pointed at her from behind, but a soldier next to her relaxed, giving her a cocky smirk. 

“Devil Black? Don’t look so frightful, do you.” He said. His posture read relaxed, and his no gun to the side that was visible. Bellatrix looked over him, scanning for any other weapons. No pistol, but he did have a sword at his hip. His uniform was different, so he must be a higher rank. 

“Looks can be deceiving,” she snapped. Her eyes followed the trail of boats, waiting for Jack to go off on his own. “Who says I can’t kill you right now, with my bare hands?” She sneered. Bellatrix cracked her knuckles and gave the soldier a smirk. “Want to test it?” 

A ship pulled up ahead of the others which stayed stationary near a cliffside. Bellatrix counted in her head the moments passing, waiting for the small boat to be far enough away, and then she elbowed the man beside her with all her might. He bent over, the air knocked out of him. She kneed his groin, and drew his sword, kicking him back against the deck. The guns pointed at her aimed, and she winked to them all, dissipating into smoke as the fired, avoiding the pain of being shot. 

She zoomed through the air over to Jack, and landed skillfully across from him, though she did tilt backward, tipping the boat a tad. “Hello,” she chuckled. 

“Nice trick.” Jack gave no indication of how he was feeling, his face unreadable. He rowed them near shore, though he asked, “How did you ever come into service of Barbossa? Awful lot of something between the two of you. Can’t imagine you working for him willingly.”

Bellatrix twisted the blade in her hand. “Well, he’s my uncle of sorts. You knew he was a wizard, so how that smart brain of yours didn’t factor that together… Our goals aligned, and what other choice did I have?”

“There is always a choice,” Jack said, moving closer to her as he rowed, then pulling away. 

“Not when home is two centuries and an ocean away,” she muttered. 

Jack’s eyebrow quirked, but he left it alone. The boat scratched up against the shore and the rocks dotting across it. Bellatrix jumped out first and helped him pull it up onto the beach. Her voice was kept low as they crept along, trying to keep noise to a minimum. "So what's the plan?” 

Jack kept a thoughtful expression, checking his eyes over to her occasionally. "You hide until the cursed leave and then wait for the opportune moment. A moment sooner and Barbossa will be on it."

Being the restless being she was, it didn't sound optimal, but what other choice did she have? It burned her insides to agree with Jack, it was the best course of action. "While we handle Barbossa, his crew can do us a favor of riding the world of Norrington. Sod was bloody annoying."

He chuckled. "You're not wrong."

They both ducked into the cave system. Jack put a finger to her lips and shushed her. Light poured in ahead in a small dot that grew as they approached. She could hear the clinks of treasure and the rustling and chatter of the _Black Pearl's_ crew. Jack pushed her into a small alcove, hidden from the path out. It was cramped, even for tall but thin Bellatrix, but it hid her enough. 

"Opportune moment," he reminded her before leaving for the chamber's entrance. 

Bellatrix had to rely on hearing, and a small crack in the stone to enjoy the scene about to unfold. He sauntered up to the edge of the cave. Barbossa was standing in the middle of the chamber, on a natural pedestal with a knife in one hand, and William's throat in the other. No speech, and instead he threatened to spill all of Will's blood. 

"I wouldn't do that mate." Jack's voice echoed through the caves, distorting his sound slightly. There was muttering spilling amongst the crowd. 

"I best be thinking I do," Barbossa snapped back. "How'd you even get off that island this time? More confluences from the creatures of the sea perhaps?"

Bellatrix adjusted herself in her hiding place. Her fingers drummed softly against the stone, energy bubbling in her blood. She had sat too still for too long already.

"As luck would have it, I stole a ride from the Navy, who are sitting right outside ready to blast you and your rowdy crew. By all means, release your curse, but your funeral." He shifted his weight and placed his hands behind his back. 

_Why are these men so talkative. It's a headache._ Bellatrix continued to have energy build and her resisted to urge to draw her sword. She didn't catch every word said, but Jack was thoroughly giving a performance to win over Barbossa to his proposal. It quite impressive, but it was taking too much time. There was too much jargon she didn't understand and nuance to pirating she hadn't picked up on. 

"I'll give you ten percent of me plunder, and you give me the _Pearl_ , introduce yourself as Commodore Barbossa, ey?"

She squinted and even from afar, Bellatrix witnessed a massive eye roll. Barbossa shoved William into the arms of some crew, taking steps towards Jack, waving the knife in front of him.

"Fifty," Barbossa snapped. The two went back and forth with amounts, Jack walking up the pedestal, running his hands over the coins. They bantered more until Jack said;

"I'll buy you a hat, a really big one to match your magnificence of splendor and status." Somehow that seemed to be the bargain to win over Barbossa. 

Barbossa smirked and stretched out his arm. "We have an accord." 

Jack shook on it and agreed, dismissing the crew to the boats. "My apologies," he said sheepishly, ducking back and bowing. 

Barbossa looked out to his crew, cocking his head with confidence."Gents, take a walk," he ordered. 

The pirates rushed out of the chamber, clambering by the small alcove Bellatrix hid in. She sucked in her breath and froze, hoping no one would catch sight of her as she ducked as far into the corner as she could. Her back hit the cold stone, and her fingers traced the glittering gold coins, knocking some over and clinking their way down the piles of treasure. Her breath stuck in her lungs as the last few pirates swept the area near the noise, but they passed over her. Air burned to be released, and she let out a sigh of relief. 

Bellatrix waltzed out of the hiding spot, gripping the hilt of her sword. Anxiety rippled throughout her body. It was almost time. _He will pay._ Time still passed, waiting for something to happen. Waiting was a game she hated, and her feet urged to just rush in. 

"It's the honest ones you have to look out for," came Jack's voice. "You'll never know when they do something incredibly... stupid." A crash, clangs of treasures tossed about, and then the rings of swords hitting each other. 

Bellatrix rushed in and stared down some of the crew who stayed behind. They crossed blades with Will, stopping a moment to assess her arrival. She jumped into the fray saving William briefly from a swift death he didn't see coming. 

"Who's side are you on?" he yelled, hitting back to back her with her as pirates circled around. 

"Yours at the moment." She pushed forward knocking one to the ground and jabbed her sword deep through his torso. It pinned him down against the stone. "I never liked you," she groaned, kicked him, and stabbed him again. He pushed her off, and Bellatrix stumbled back. She brought her sword up just in time to spare herself a fatal blow, or so she thought. The blade gashed through her, and cut her deep inside. Then the pain set in. It burned her flesh with a sharp pointed pain.

The air grew colder by the second as blood flowed from the wound. Bellatrix glared at him as he smirked. With her last few seconds, she scanned the room, saw the chest of cursed treasure, and willed herself over to it by smoke. Her fingers brushed against the coins, fumbling to grab one. She collapsed to the floor of the pedestal and rolled down to the ring of water. Weak, her body refused to listen to her, but she didn't feel the pain. Bellatrix blinked rapidly trying to get a grip on what happened. 

Her legs refused to work but her will was stronger, and she pushed herself up. The ringing of swords still took to the air, and the banter of Jack and Barbossa danced around like echoes of chaotic ghosts. The small rays of moonlight filtering in from the holes in the ceiling caught Jack and Barbossa, revealing both of them as undead. 

"Jack, you git," Bellatrix hissed. She tried to transform into smoke, but nothing happened. She rubbed the coin in her hand. Mere seconds without magic and she already hated it. Suddenly, Barbossa madness made sense.

Bellatrix rushed to join Jack, changing with the moonlight as she dashed across the chamber. She couldn't die, all she had to do was wait out the fight. Blood trickled from her would still, soaking her clothes. She brought down her sword, blocking Barbossa swipe at Jack.

"Miss me?" She teased. The annoyed and hurt expression painted on Barbossa's face was delicious. 

Her sword pushed back on Barbossa's and knocked him away from Jack. She took a step in front of Sparrow, guarding him. "Can't let Jack have all the fun can I?" Bellatrix then sprung into action letting out a flurry of strikes, all caught by his sword, and the vibrations from the force radiated down her arm. It felt so good to swing a blade. Violently she let out her frustration through each attack, she didn't care for her own safety as Barbossa retaliated. He nicked her here and there, she thought, she couldn’t feel it. Jack did an excellent job of swooping in at the right moment.

Jack bumped into her, pushing her aside, and took point leading Barbossa backward and on the defense. The two took turns on offense and rounding him towards the chest of cursed gold. They worked perfectly as a team, even giving each other small looks. Barbossa looked between the two, unable to focus, a scowl of disgust on his lips, and bitter betrayal in his eyes.

Elizabeth and Will were off in the distance causing a commotion and keeping the crew busy. Bellatrix hadn’t even heard Elizabeth come in, though she wasn’t surprised she escaped the cabin.

Barbossa’s voice caught her attention again as she stalked forward. "So what now? Locked in an epic battle where wits will do no good as flesh can't be hurt?" he said as if a dying poet. 

"You could surrender," Jack said, stepping forward, shrugging his shoulders. 

_If only._

Bellatrix kept quiet and watched. Her mind had grown still and merely let actions speak for her inside. The emotional pain inside was rolling off her in heat waves as she stared Barbossa down. There was the faintest glint of guilt in his eyes, but no fear, merely pride of his own skill.  

She back up, knocking into a pirate. She stabbed him and pulled out his pistol. With a quick aim, she shot Barbossa in the chest, and he still stood shocked by her action. "None of us can die, so what's the point?" 

Will ran up to the chest, stopping to look over the situation. 

"No, one of us will," she hissed. Her feet took her as fast as she could towards the chest, mere yards away. She slit her hand with the coin in it and tossed it. 

Jack did the same, but Barbossa didn't miss a beat whipping out his gun and shooting Bellatrix in the gut with the most remorseful look distorting his visage. Bellatrix cried out and fell to her knees. The shot echoing in her ears. In seconds, her body revolted against her. In her peripheral, Barbossa then fell back against the stone.

Her abdomen stung like never before, and she missed the days of recovering from Azkaban instead. The world around her was shaky, but she somehow found the will to stand. Her feet staggered as she made her way to the collapsed and cold body of Barbossa, tumbling over him and grabbing at his coat. 

"Bella," came Jack's voice, but it was faint, like a whisper to a harsh wind. Her ears rung and she grabbed her uncle's dead body, forcing her magic to work. Bellatrix apparated away with the last inch of her life threatening to leave her.

* * *

With a thud Bellatrix landed, hitting the wooden floor of the hut. The pain searing in her side and gut, blinding her with both black and white dots in her vision. Beside her rested the dead body of Barbossa, and she forced her body to move.

Bellatrix propped herself up, her breaths trying to gasp for air but it was hopeless. Her hand grabbed her sword, and she dug the blade deep into his lifeless body. 

“You’re making a mess in my house,” came Tia Dalma’s voice. 

Bellatrix didn't look away. “He's dead.” She jabbed her sword down again. “He's dead.”

“Dead as I asked. I expected nothing less from someone like you, Bellatrix. Take him into the back.” Tia was out of view, but her voice drifted close as if she was right above Bellatrix. 

Bellatrix steadied herself on her knees, trying to push herself up, but her body grew heavy against her limbs. Gravity won out, and she collapsed against the floor. Oddly enough, she was cold. She should have been hot but the muggy air of the forest or the abundance of candles in the home, but she wasn't. 

She tried to keep her eyes open, but she was tired and wanted to sleep. Again, the temptation to give in won. Bellatrix’s eyelids fell, and darkness consumed her consciousness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, that's ALL of Part One. I'm still writing Part Two and it might take a few months to get that ready for posting. Sorry for the long wait in between. But I did just give you 40k worth of content... so please bear with me. I'm trying.


	8. Fate, My Old Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this is a "preview" chapter. Something to tide you all over as I edit Part Two. I have completed the first draft and am working on fixing it up. 
> 
> This chapter might change as I fix up the draft (but I highly doubt it.) 
> 
> There are two POVs in this part: Calypso and Bellatrix.
> 
> Mentions Blood and Death but very minor.

**Part Two: Monsters And The Gods Who Breed Them**

* * *

 ( **Calypso)**

Amber light flickered bathing the room in a strange tone as Tia cast the bones against the table. The crab claw fell last, rolling before settling in place, and a particular strangeness washed over the room. She smirked as she gazed over the omens. Eeriness shivered down her spine, and claustrophobia clung to her lungs for a mere moment. She couldn’t breathe. But then everything was normal once more.  
  
Tia Dalma sat quietly, pondering about a dark haired pirate and witch. Bellatrix carried the strangest magic for a mortal. It crackled around her trying to break out of some barrier, and her body. Tia heard its call. It beckoned to her asking to come home. The strings of Fate pulled at Bellatrix, and she could see it clear as the morning tides. Her old friend would not so easily show their workings unless it was important. And important Bellatrix was, but how?  
  
She sat in her chair, tapping her fingers across the table. Perhaps Bellatrix would be a greater asset than she predicted. Tia would pray Bellatrix returned with Barbossa’s corpse as she asked, but who does a goddess pray to?

* * *

The bubbling mixture in her cauldron brewed in the night’s heat. Tia poured the various ingredients, mixing it casually, and enjoying the aroma of the potion. The earthy smell filled her home and centered her back to the world. Unfortunately the village she resided on the outskirts of had fallen ill to a degree she had difficulty keeping up with crafting cures. It was a small village in the middle of a swamp, but it kept them protected. Most of the residents were refugees from one catastrophe or another.  
  
She clunked around looking at the jars that littered her countertops. The final ingredient hid from her.  
  
“Where did I put it,” she muttered.  
  
Suddenly a cracking energy surged through the air, and a pop erupted from behind her. A smile formed on her lips. Bellatrix was back, albeit bleeding out and making a mess of her floor. “ _So my pirate returns,_ ” she mused, immediately questioning the possessiveness of the thought.  
  
“You’re making a mess of my house,” she finally spoke.  
  
Bellatrix didn’t react, and Tia furrowed her brows. Her feet carried her over to Bellatrix. Red coated her skin and clothes, bleeding out, and still, she went to strike Barbossa. He was already dead, and a grimace appeared on her lips. As she predicted. The fate of this man played out as charted, probably to his displeasure, as foul and sour as men’s souls often become.  
  
“He’s dead,” Bellatrix breathed, but it was staggered and forced. They did not make eye contact, but Bellatrix’s eyes fluttered as is trying to stay open. She jabbed at him again, and her hand slipped from the sword’s hilt.  
  
Tia caught her hand. Her grimace deepened along with narrowed eyes, inspecting. She must have missed these scars last she saw Bellatrix, but there were so many littering her arm. Her fingers brushed a strange tattoo, and it stung her fingers. A quick flash of a man bolted in her mind like lightning. He was handsome, dark eyes like the void and a corrupted energy that shocked through her. Evil was the only word she could use to describe the ichorous feeling dousing her insides.  
  
Bellatrix spoke and snapped her attention back to the world. “But he’s dead.”  
  
“Dead as I asked. I expected nothing less of you, Bellatrix. Take him to the back.” Though she knew Bellatrix couldn’t. Tia rustled around for a healer’s kit. She could easily raise the dead to live once more with permission from Death and Fate; though she did not wish for Bellatrix to die. It wasn’t time, and the thought of her being dead sent a strange tingle in her skin, sad and uncomfortable.  
  
Whispers filled her ears. They were icy and stinging to hear. She could only make out so much of Fate’s words. “They must be broken and ash before they can be rebuilt. Care for your mortal well.”  
  
Whatever her connection to Bellatrix was, she needed to discover it soon. There were plans to be made.  
  
She looked back over her shoulder, and dread filled the pit of her stomach. Bellatrix lay flat against the floor without a rise to her chest or twitch of a limb. The fearful pain taking her confused her. _My mortal?_  
  
Bellatrix is dead. The thought left her throat dry.  
  
Tia levitated Bellatrix in the air and brought her with haste to the table in the back. With what powers she had left of her god abilities, whatever she could still invoke from herself and Death, Calypso prepared the resurrection ritual.  
  
“Don’t go out Star,” she whispered, her voice unusually shaky. Why was she so… attached?  
  
She felt her fingers for a moment. Who was this figure she saw? Everything about him spoke evil and malicious.  
  
“What have you gotten yourself into Star?”

* * *

Tia went on about her life; brewing potions, and stewing on plans. She needed to be freed from this single form. A mortal form no less! Her patience grew thin, yet somehow continuously found a way to go on. The bones sprawled across her table boded ill fates for her dead pirate upstairs. She stopped and rubbed her chin curiously. _My pirate?_  
  
Whatever fleeting connection they had would service in gaining Bellatrix’s aid. What are a few months to an immortal? Tia toyed with a crab claw between her fingers and lazily gazed over her space. A grimace tore across her lips. That dead pirate upstairs did hold a lot of mysteries, and the puzzlement had a taste she couldn’t ignore. Perhaps she would get to know her, but from a distance for mortals were fickle and thorns to be pruned.  
  
Bellatrix stood out amongst these mortals thanks to her strange magic. The more Tia put thought into it, the sourer her mood and expression became. She felt that tickle in the base of her skull, and it spread down her spine. That strangeness spread in her body, unfamiliar, and uncomfortable, cursing her situation, yet calling out to something. She did not want any ties to a mortal. Calypso learned that lesson long ago.  
  
Tia closed her eyes and took a breath. Her bound form gave her many new sensations and how she hated it. But this, this was divine in nature, and old, searching for her, and her to it. Ever since Bellatrix arrived, cold and dead upon her floor, bleeding her precious life away, something in Tia faded and became hollow. That abyss had been there before.  
  
She tossed the claw away and held her head in her hands. Tia tried to ignore the omens across her table. But her heart ached, and she brushed them away, scattering them, and ruining their sayings. They made small thunks as they hit the floor, but Calypso barely registered it.  
  
Yes, this abyss had been there before, but it never left. She decided to bury it. Supposedly that’s what Davy Jones did too. Her human form amplified that hollowness. It broke apart her ethereal self and her heart. Her damnation took away her frivolous apathy and replaced it with empathy and the like. It wasn’t until she was bound did anything truly hurt.  
  
“Mortals,” she cursed. Tia pushed away thoughts of Bellatrix and her past lover from her mind for a mere moment of peace. She needed not to think of the monster she made or the new one in her possession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really working hard so I can bring you guys Part Two as fast as I can but also keeping the quality decent.


	9. Rebirth's Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Suicidal Thoughts, Abuse (parental, emotional, Voldemort being a manipulative bastard, and liking the torture curse), Murder, Self-harm, Scars from said self-harm, Self-destructive behavior, Gender Dysphoria, Improper Chest Binding, Death, Blood (I think that's everything.)
> 
> Lots of trauma and it's only the bare surface.
> 
> Lots to unpack but not in this chapter.

**Part Two: Monsters And The Gods Who Breed Them**

> ****

**(Bellatrix)**

Her eyes snapped open, and her body lurched into a sitting position. Pain spiked through her torso. Tears beaded on the brim of her eyes burning like the rest of her form. She was sore all over as if someone was tearing her muscles from her bones. But was this her body? Foreign was the only way she could think of describing it. She just floated there with the body not her own. Her hands would not move on command. Instead, they merely twitched and jerked as she tried to flex her fingers. She felt like a dead weight in water.

Tears fell—overwhelmed by the pain and confusion. A quick glance around did not aid in recognition. Clutter of every type sat atop a dresser, a clothes chest, and she sat on the double bed occupying the middle of the room. The strange sticky feeling on her skin must be humidity. It clung to her, and uncomfortable shivers crawled up her spine. 

All feeling then left. Her mind hazed over.

She took a deep breath and glanced back at the dresser. A mirror rested against the wall atop it. A pale woman littered in scars, dressed in only loose bindings, and dark black curls stared back at her. The reflection’s eyes were bloodshot and red, tinting her silver iris’s pink by comparison. She knew this woman, but the word ‘woman’ tasted funny. 

She had to have a name. What was it?

Her voice stung her throat as she sounded out what she could remember—which wasn’t much. It was something related to the stars in the sky, or fighting. 

“ _My warrior_ ,” a male voice whispered to her. It was a smooth sound that should have eased her. Instead, it made her stiffen. _My Bellatrix._

That was her name. She didn’t like how the voice sounded saying it. He was too confident and possessive with something dark and sultry hidden in those tones. Bellatrix’s gaze fell back on the mirror. That woman in the reflection was her no matter how much the word woman made her skin crawl. Bile tickled in the back of her throat. The reflection staring back had the cruelest gaze and grimace. Who was she? One word came to mind—evil.

Bellatrix threw her legs over the side of the bed. Her fingers traced over a scar on her abdomen. Unlike the others, it was circular, red, and profoundly tender. It touched a large gashing ridge that was redder than the others too. A loud bang echoed in her skull; rattling around her mind and ringing in her ears. 

It was a gunshot wound. It stung, and so did the gash. Bellatrix gripped her abdomen tight, toppled back onto the bed, crying in immense pain. Her body shook with her sobs and worsened the aching. Breathing itself hurt. Bellatrix attempted to stand despite the pain. Pain was normal and what was to be expected. She knew this deep in her sore bones. Though her legs buckled and refused to hold her weight, she fell to the floor and crashed her skull against the bed frame: more pain and more tears. Bellatrix lay curled up on the floor unable to move. Agony radiated from her lower ribs at impact, but her gasps of pain hid the slight cracking sound.

Arms wrapped around her; encompassing her into an embrace. Soft words made it to her ears and a soft touch to her bleeding head. Bellatrix buried her face in the crook of the person’s neck. Tears soaked their warm skin. The pain in her skull subsided with relief washing down to the rest of her body. 

Bellatrix glanced up. Holding her was a divinely beautiful dark-skinned woman with a knowing gaze. It looked into her. Her eyes were alight like low embers left in smoldering ash. Bellatrix’s breath stuck in her throat, and her first instinct was to tip the woman’s head to kiss her. But why? Strange energy shocked through her, wanting to escape, and embrace the woman. There was only faint recognition in her mind, but a profound call to her that dug deep into her soul. 

“Tia—Tia Dalma?” She managed with her strained voice. Yes, this was Tia Dalma, a witch, like herself but more powerful. Wait, she was a witch? Wizard sounded better. Bellatrix cuddled into her arms, tears soaking Tia’s shoulder.

Tia stroked Bellatrix’s hair and wrapped her arms around her middle. “I’m sorry you woke up like this, Star. Something went wrong. You need to ease back in slowly.”

Bellatrix’s brain went hazy again. She rested numb in Tia’s arms. “Ease back in?” she mumbled. It didn’t make sense. Her eyelids threatened to fall. 

A faint, sad voice whispered her nickname in the back of her mind, “ _Bella_ ,” somber and shocked. Neither a face nor a name came to mind to match that man’s voice—just he was important. 

“Why does my body feel… mine but not?” Bellatrix rested her head in the crook of Tia’s neck. Being close felt right was right. She could stay like that forever. Tia was so warm, like a summer day at the beach, and her touch was refreshing like the waves. 

“Bellatrix,” came a serious tone. She felt Tia swallow hard. “You died.”

Her limbs jerked as she shot Tia a glance. “I what?” She forced her arm to feel that circle scar again. “I was shot,” she said with a small voice akin to that of a scared child. She this was unlike her. It hurt her bones and insides being so openly afraid. It fed the loop of it too.

“Your memory will escape you for a few days.” Tia patted the top of her head.

Her mind racked itself trying to remember what relationship they had. Nothing more than a name and a short description appeared, though there was a feeling, a calling to her. It was like a moth to a flame and a sailor to the sea. _I was a sailor—no pirate. I was a pirate, but something before. Something terrible._

The question laid on the tip of her tongue for too long. She finally asked, “What am I to you? It feels like we’re lovers. But I don’t know you. I can’t remember.” A warm sensation took her as she spoke ‘lovers’. It manifested and felt right. It was the only thing correct in that strange situation. Everything else was foreign or unknown, but not that. Whatever it was, it made Bellatrix cling to Tia as her body went tired and heavy.

“I don’t know, Star, but I plan to figure it out.” Her words clipped with annoyance and it stung. What had Bellatrix done wrong to earn such a response? It was an odd answer as well. It questioned the magic reaching out to Tia, but magic doesn’t do that. It stays nestled in a body until forced to change the world around you. This was nothing like the magic Bellatrix knew. Questions formed but never did an answer. 

No words could describe this strange rift inside pulling her apart in multiple directions; one towards Tia, one to a faceless man with a warm aura, another to a woman who’s only essence was fiery as her hair. There was one last piece of her pulled towards a man, but it did not want to go to him. It still did though, only set with fear, twisted obsessions, and guiltily that she owed him.

Bellatrix did not know these people and the longer she dwelled on trying to remember the more anger boiled in her blood. The absence of memory, a lack of context for anything and everything she felt, was frustrating. The fear in her chest, constricting her heart, overpowered everything else. Bellatrix scooted away from Tia to rest against the bedside. It pained her, but she let tears fall down her cheeks. 

“Misery,” was the only word she could muster from her throat. She was the center of so much pain and tragedy. How she did not know. It made her feelings too complex for her to want to know. Deep inside something whispered, “ _it is better to forget._ ”

She let her gaze drift back to Tia. Words tickled her lips, but no sounds arose. So, she settled on making her limbs work. Bellatrix pushed up and grabbed onto the bed, climbed up its side, and struggled to keep balance. But she was determined as willpower was her greatest asset. Bellatrix remembered that much. It might be her rage, but she was unstoppable if she wanted to be. 

Her knees rested on the bed frame as Tia took her waist. Bellatrix sucked in a breath to steady herself and stepped back. Her balance did not betray her and the hands on her middle released. Thankfully her legs did not stiffen or give out as help retreated. 

Bellatrix glanced back at her hands as they shook. The aching faded to mere background tenderness. A strange skull and snake tattoo marked her left forearm; though it was faded grey and dull against her paleness. She brushed her fingers across it. 

_A man stood tall above her while she kneeled before him. His gaze down at her was condescending, but of course, it was. He was the master, her teacher, her savior. The man took her forearm and pressed his wand hard against her skin—injecting it with dark magic. It ached like poison but bestowed her with his beautiful mark. She happily wore his brand as his most loyal._

The taste of iron’s tang annoyed her tongue as her mind came back to the present. A headache returned and a harsh throbbed radiated from the mark—beating its poison through her with every beat of her heart. It awakened for just a second to squirm on her skin before returning dormant and dull. 

_My… Master?_ * She didn’t like the shiver of cold icing over her spine. It blended with a sick twisted feeling taking everything in her. The feeling was similar to the draw to Tia but darker, tainted.

Bellatrix bit her lip to check if she was conscious or this was merely another nightmare. She was very much awake. “There’s you, two men… and a woman. I don’t know how they’re all connected, but I'm supposed to find them.” Bellatrix swallowed and paused as sheer hatred washed over her. “And the man who shot me. I’m going to find him. I’m going to torture him into submission, begging at my feet. He will regret his existence.” 

She breathed and unlocked her aching jaw. “But the others,” she said cooly, “are important.” Tears rolled down her cheeks as more visuals of her master came to mind. He was such a handsome man, but it hid such cruelty beneath. “I don’t want to find him,” Bellatrix whispered. “He hurt me. Repeatedly.” She touched the mark on her forearm.

Her fist struck the bedpost, but she didn’t care about the pain. She had endured worse at the hands of this man. “I’m going to kill him,” she growled. 

Tia eyed her carefully before speaking cooly. “There are many things to plan Bellatrix. Revenge for what’s been done may happen, but you owe a service. You will do it if you want to reach your ends.” She kept still with her eyes never leaving her. But Tia broke out a soft smile. “But first I need Devil Black back.”

“Devil Black?”

Tia nodded with a knowing mischievous smile. She motioned for Bellatrix to follow her, but Bellatrix pushed herself outside the room, barely tripping over herself and down the stairs.

“Slowly,” Tia drawled. 

Each step hurt less than the last, and the numb pinpricks faded. She stared down at the steps easing to the floor below. Tia stood behind her watching her intensely. It gave her an uncomfortable shudder, and she took the last few steps down with her hand feeling over the railing. Strange how everything was new and old at the same time. Her legs, now stretched, no longer pained her as she reached the first floor. 

Tia followed her down and handed her a shirt. “Cover up,” she said. Bellatrix caught that glance over her chest and the lusty glint in her eye. Nothing but stress came from it. Uncomfortableness retook her and worse as she stood frozen. Tia’s eyes repeatedly raked over her, pausing at every curve and her chest.

“Stop,” Bellatrix snapped. She threw the shirt on and crossed her arms with familiar stress and anger coiling inside.

_Frustration. Nothing was right. Child Bellatrix rustled through Cygnus’ closet stealing his shirts and dress robes. She threw one a loose shirt of her father’s after stripping away a dress. Her mother always forced her into dresses because it was lady-like, and Bellatrix needed to get used to her growing chest and curves. But she hated it. If she could burn everyone one of those dresses, she would. It wasn’t safe to, but she wished it was, to correct her mother. Bellatrix couldn’t explain it, but she wasn’t a lady or little mistress as the house elves called her. She was forced silent on the issue and for a twelve-year-old, started to die a little each time. Any look in the mirror was a stab to the gut and another crack in her heart._

_Why couldn’t she be normal like her sisters? They were the perfect upheaval of a proper pureblood, especially Narcissa. Bellatrix was always angry and stressed though. There was nothing perfect about her. Her presence merely being disappointment personified. Never was she really sure why, or why her moods came and went like off scheduled tides. Bellatrix was thankful her parents were on a trip and couldn’t catch her cross-dressing. The stress eased just enough. The passing thought of death did not touch her that weekend, but quickly returned as her parents did._

Bellatrix felt under the baggy shirt and ghosted her fingers across her ribs. They hurt to the touch. The shirt’s collar dropped far below her clavicle, and she traced over that as well. Her scarred skin begged many questions, but that was for later. For now, she was tempted to pull the cloth across her chest tighter even if that was not its purpose. Though Tia’s gaze averted, stress filled her, and the uncomfortable feeling did not leave with her looks. It stayed and toyed with Bellatrix. Torments of thoughts she couldn’t decipher but all adding the stress of her chest. She slipped her hands back and tightened the loose bindings with a soft grunt.

“Something wrong?” Tia took a step closer and straightened the shirt which had fallen down Bellatrix’s arm. Her fingers laced the collar ties shut. “You are uncomfortable. Do you not like my gaze? When we first met, you had interest, and moments ago said the same.” 

Bellatrix pushed them away from her chest but kept a loose grip on Tia's wrists. She felt the soft skin beneath her fingers, aiding her to a calm breath. But Tia's expression flickered between confusion and a troubled frown. 

“It’s not that. I—I’m not comfortable in this body. I don’t know how to say it right, because that’s not entirely true.” The contact between their skin left a warm sensation in her chest and a tingle in her hands. She pulled away and crossed her arms. “I don’t—I feel—never mind.” 

Bellatrix wandered off unable to look Tia in the eye. She took a step outside. The sunlight came down from the canopy in visible yellow rays butting through a layer of fog near the river's surface. Bellatrix sat down on the porch while dangling her feet as she watched the water and mist below.

* * *

 

Bellatrix’s fingers traced her lower ribs compulsively. She didn’t suspect it was due to the wrappings. They’d been aching since she fell, but it was just something to toy with. Bellatrix hated the pain, but it was normal. Her touching of them, however, wouldn’t stop. In moments of stress, she’d press them until she couldn’t take it. Truthfully she did it because it hurt and breaking her thoughts away from them was a mental hurdle she couldn’t jump. But the pain became a background feeling, and her senses numbed it out for the moment. A dreadful hope that it would start hurting again tickled the back of her mind. 

She glanced in the mirror with a deep frown. Memory and reality didn’t match. A few blinks here and she appeared younger and healthier to then be older and a phantom of a person. Bellatrix rubbed her eyes and sighed heavily. A look back in the mirror and her appearance stayed constant—middle-aged, malnourished, haunting. Her muscular figure slowly returned to her over the days. Death must have weakened her body.

But death did not remove her history carved across her skin.

She was covered in scars, however; from her thighs up to her entire torso. All of it scarred with some silver, or white, while others were a gashing red. The ridges thin and sharp on her legs—workings of a blade perhaps, but there were too many for it to be from a fight. In contrast, her arms appeared mauled and torn by some animal with its claws ripping into her.

Some cuts across her were nicks from swords. She was a pirate after all. There had to be moments she missed timed a dodge or parry. 

“Merlin, what happened to me,” she whispered. There was no one to answer, just her naked reflection.

She brushed away her hair and looked into the vanity mirror. A weird marking tattooed into her neck and Bellatrix couldn’t remember why. Every time she tried to trigger a memory she went cold, and a heavy hurting sadness washed over her. It froze her in the moment, and she lost time to the haze.

It burdened her in her shoulders; everything was faint. The closer she tried to look at the memories the hazier her mind became. They came, they invoked their upset, and left leaving their trauma behind. Some of it had to do with that snake and skull tattoo. Occasionally it’ll wake and writhe on her skin but only when Tia touched her. It did not like her presence and stung Bellatrix when Tia touched too close to it.

The urge to cry overpowered her and so she broke under its stress. She couldn’t stop tracing the scars, focusing, trying to remember. 

_Anger burned the back of her throat. A stifled scream choked her. Never was she good enough. Always. What was wrong with her? She caught the stares from her sisters. It was in their eyes—the word freak. They knew too much about her on going’s behind their parents’ back: her stealing Cygnus’ clothes, her stares at women they pass, her adverseness to whatever standard forced upon her._

_She couldn’t figure which hurt worse: her parents' abuse or how she still sacrificed herself for girls who judged her silently. Bellatrix had no one except Tom. No, she had Alecto too._

_But at the moment the world crashed down on her, crushing her. It split red lines across her hips. If there was blood, the pain, the isolation, the strangeness was real._

Bellatrix blinked rapidly and fought back hot tears. What else should she have expected by now? She gazed down and pain stung in her wrists. They bled with red beneath her nails. Self-destruction must be heavily ingrained in her. 

_”Do you ever wish you were someone else?” Bellatrix asked Andy. She brushed her sister’s hair despite them no longer being children. It was for the sake of her sanity to have a quiet moment for once._

_Andromeda faced her with a narrowed glance. It wasn’t cold, but it scanned over Bellatrix with a skepticism she didn’t like. “No, despite everything, I don’t. Why?” Caution took her features, and the glance turned cold. Andy was steeling herself for something. She should know by now Bellatrix would never snap at her. Not for something like this at least._

_Bellatrix sighed. “Never mind.” She put down the brush and walked over to the window. Rain pattered against the glass. “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be a man: when you’re listened to, when people care about what you have to say. I wouldn’t have to scream or curse for an ounce of attention. What it would be like to—“ No, she couldn’t speak further of it._

_She had many curiosities of what being a man would be like, some appealing to her more than they should, but for none of the reasons she spoke. Her dreams told her she wouldn’t feel as strange about herself. To never wince or have her heart drop in social situations as mother so coldly criticized her for being unladylike. If only Druella could understand that was how it was supposed to be. She was not a lady, a woman, whatever Druella wanted her to be._

_ “Bellatrix…” Andromeda sighed, but she kept her distance. “Mum’s getting in your head. Can’t let her do that.”  _

_“She is,” Bellatrix quipped. She was just foolish and rebellious. Her heart ached as she swallowed. She needed to bury these feelings. Kill them off. Tom didn’t approve of them. So they must be removed._

She slowly dressed herself pausing as the shirt went on. Her curves sliced her mood, and that stress returned. It didn't help the shirts Tia had were all low cut necklines and the bindings beneath easily showed themselves. Still, she had no way to explain it. Feelings of what she should be fought with everything Druella forced into her. There was no way for her to know which was right, because could she trust herself to know? Every life decision and self-reflection she’d remembered ended in blood—hers or someone else’s. Still, her anxieties wouldn’t leave and nagged on as she left Tia’s room.

There were so many memories of being cruel but never an explanation for such pure rage. Fear mixed in with many of them — the fear of not surviving. Tom must have asked it of her, so she did it. It begged the question, why was he so important, and why he felt more like a shadow than the spark of light she told herself he was.

* * *

 

The soft earth beneath her bare feet had a calming sense as she wandered the swamp and village. It was the only pass time to distract her. Exploring connected her to the nature and life of the swamp. Even her magic reached out to it as it did to Tia. The longer she tried to understand or remember, the harder it was to think, and frustration took her to the brink of rage. 

Why was she always so angry? Anything ticked her closer to an outburst. She had a power inside that she feared would consume her if she let herself lash out. 

A walk in the village always set in tranquility that lessened whatever power wanted to escape. Strangely she felt more human as she did. Perhaps it was the peace. It made her pause as the thought crossed her mind. 

“How cruel do you have to be, to not feel human?” She asked. “How much damage have I done?” Nothing answered, and the loneliness inside stirred to be quieted by loud memories. 

_Bellatrix took Alecto’s cheeks and brushed them with her thumbs. Alecto’s red hair tumbled down in a mess of curls, yet it was adorable. Her stomach knotted. Merlin, she’d miss her touch, her laugh, those crisp deep blue eyes. She kissed Alecto softly on the lips and pushed her back against the wall of their flat. They’d bought it together to hide during the war as it did hang heavy on them though neither admitted it. Plans had changed, however._

_She wrapped her arms around Alecto and held her as tight as possible. Bellatrix tried to imprint the feeling of comfort into her mind. Fear gripped her that she would not know the meaning of love or affection by the end of this war. Worse still was the fear was right._

_Alecto kissed her cheek and held her too. “What’s wrong Bella,” she asked. Merlin, her voice. It was small, cute, sweet. No one could guess the atrocities she’d done and how it haunted many of their enemies. Partly that was why it was so beautiful to Bellatrix._

_She couldn’t speak. They’d been together for years, ever since their Hogwarts days. Alecto had been there every step in Bellatrix’s journey into becoming the Dark Lord’s right hand. She was the one who carried Bellatrix to bed when she was too tired to move. She was the one who listened to everything Bellatrix had to say about the Dark Lord, good, venting, hurt. Alecto picked up her pieces when she failed and had been punished, or she couldn’t handle what was happening inside her head. She always soothed it away._

_Despite that, Bellatrix was the one who took Alecto on her first raid. She helped shape Alecto into the Death Eater she was—strong, cruel, and relentless. It went deeper than that. Alecto listened and cared. Her kisses soothed away worries and aches. Alecto, in true Hufflepuff fashion, fought away anyone with intentions to harm Bellatrix. She always hung a protective arm around her middle._

_But Bellatrix knew that she was not the person Alecto had fallen in love with. It was evident in her eyes. Yet, she endured and loved her anyway._

_The pain the Dark Lord caused, however, was never challenged, never questioned, only bandaged over to deal with another day. Neither of them could have survived such a challenge. It was his will, so it was right, justified._

_Bellatrix melted under the gaze Alecto gave her. She swallowed, throat dry, and heart racing. Alecto was her first love, and she doubted she’d love anyone like her again. Even Voldemort could not take her place. Everything about her: mind, body, and soul, was perfect to her._

_That was precisely the problem._

_“He,” Bellatrix started. She took Alecto’s hands from her shoulders. Her thumbs rubbed over her skin before hesitantly letting go. A shaky breath escaped. Her voice refused to work, and tears pricked at her eyes. Bellatrix could not stomach to look at Alecto. “He has forbidden this. I’m sorry, Alecto. I can’t—I’ll pay for you to live here… but it will have to be without me.”_

_In seconds she broke, crying, and her voice sore. She steeled herself making her shoulders strong and her posture straightened._

_Alecto stayed quiet and observed her. The silence punctured the air like a knife to skin. Bellatrix couldn’t bear the pain of standing there any longer. She turned on her heels and walked out the door, quietly shutting it behind her. A massive bang erupted from inside, and Bellatrix flinched. She fought the urge to turn around and rush into Alecto’s arms cooing how sorry she was. But instead, she apparated to Malfoy Manor._

_This is what he wanted. What he wants, he gets, especially from her. She loved him too. Alecto would come to understand. She was loyal and one of his favorites too. One day she’d understand._

_ Somehow, though, the flame of his torture curses was more appealing than the ache settling in her chest, and the hours she spent locked in Narcissa’s bathroom, crying. _

Bellatrix caught herself as she fell, a spiked pain in her chest, and her body failing to work as intended. Alecto’s image was all she could see and how hurt she looked. The vision’s eyes shifted over Bellatrix, and a wry smile broached its lips. It dissipated and left an empty feeling in its place. 

She sat against a tree, knees to her chest, and playing with the fabric of her breeches. Such a powerful memory charged with emotion and care, only to end with a feeling of destruction. Bellatrix held her head. She could practically feel Alecto’s heartbreak in her chest and beating inside her ribs. Or was it her heartbreak. It was a chasm crumbling away and causing that rift to grow wider. 

Her head ached as she wondered who had such power over her, to make her abandon someone she loved so much? It was that man—her master. His presence followed Bellatrix everywhere she went, and her heart palpitated as if he was looming over her shoulder. She could not escape, and such fear she didn’t quite understand, took its rule over her once more. 

_The sun set over the horizon, and cast reds and oranges across the surrounding landscape of Black Manor. Bellatrix stood on her balcony, looking out, and down, dreaming of maybe jumping to her doom, or walking into that blazing sun. Mother and Father, per usual, were working their cruelties in her and her sisters. It_ was _merely words this round and Bellatrix counted her blessings no curses came. But Cygnus did keep his wand well strapped and in reach. She hoped the guests to this ball would keep her safe, for at least the moment. It wouldn’t take a genius to see the spells waiting on his lips to be cast._

_So he kept the demeanor of an exasperated parent whose children were his banes. As always, that meant Bellatrix. Andromeda held her place, and Narcissa had somehow wrapped their parents around her finger. But it was Bellatrix who was trouble. She was broken with such sharp edges. Cygnus could not control her, and so he tried to put her down—grind her broken shards into dust. His children must be quiet, perfect ladies, raised to end up bound to a pure-blooded man and his manor._

_Cygnus took out his frustration of thrice the opportunity for a proper heir taken from him. So of course, it’s was the Eldest of his mistakes that would take the toll. It was her fault as he put it. He could not accept her as she was: strong and willful. Cygnus must have feared her growing power, Druella did not care for how her children were treated, and that’s where her savior stepped in. Tom Riddle promised to teach her so she could save herself. He never failed to deliver. It just had a cost, but she was always willing to pay._

_The ball ran later than expected but nobody came looking for her. It was a welcome respite. The nagging thoughts of death still occurred, but it was still company. For a sixteen-year-old, it was strange, but she’d never been normal. Whether it was the strange feelings in her chest when she was around Alecto Carrow or the wince she couldn’t hide when she was called a woman, Bellatrix felt cut off, different. But none of that mattered to Tom. Yes, he told her to kill that side of herself as it was only a distraction from her potential. So she did or tried. But no matter how hard Bellatrix tried, she couldn’t get rid of the feelings she held deep in her heart when it came to Alecto--she was just too pretty. Alecto was just too beautiful._

_But everything else strange about her was stripped as early as it could be._

_The French doors behind her opened. Hands covered her eyes, and before the stranger could announce themselves, Bellatrix knew who it was._

_“Hello Tom,” she said, trying to douse out any of her sad musings from her voice. “I thought you would be busy, trying to gain some ground with the families. I know the Carrows are interested in what you have to say.”_

_Tom twirled her to face him. A smirk twitched on his lips. “Now, why would you know that?”_

_Bellatrix darted her gaze away and shrugged. She couldn’t keep her secrets from him, so it was better not to try at all. “Alecto told me. Amycus and his parents were talking about it.”_

_He put his hand to the small of her back and tugged her closer. Tom held her as if they were to waltz. Bellatrix couldn’t hide her blush. Her teacher was handsome as could be, and his dark red eyes always drew her in. She could listen to his voice all day. But that wasn’t everything. He’d tell her it was a shame the way she was treated. The world was cruel so she should be crueler and her be by her side. There were promises of power and protection, distaste for her parents, and hunger for carnage. It appealed to her like sweets; one bite was not enough, nor never enough._

_One day she’d carry his mark and people would fear her—as they should._

_ Bellatrix leaned into his embrace, attempting to calm the anger trying to surface. All those promises meant nothing if she was caged like a circus animal in Black Manor. She’d snap and be caught, charged with the murder of her parents. Bellatrix had killed once before, for Tom, and only incompetence protected her parents for now. When she was better at it, she had a blade with Cygnus’ name carved on it, and curses for Druella. _

_ Tom’s voice brought her back to reality. “When you are seventeen, I’ve arranged for you to have your own small estate. You’ll no longer be trapped here.” _

_She reeled back and couldn’t help her cautious gaze. “How—“_

_He smiled with mischief in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter how, but when. I need you to prove yourself though. It’s the only requirement to make it official.” They broke apart, but he kept an eye on her. He must have been examining her reaction._

_Bellatrix kept quiet as she stared at the stone, only to whisper, “what do I have to do?”_

_“There is someone I need gone. You are to kill him.” He said it cooly and casually as if murder took no toll on someone._

_She’d killed for him before, but Bellatrix didn’t want to experience the aftershock again. It would be different if it were her parents, but despite everything hard and mean about her, life leaving one’s eyes haunted her in her dreams. It must be something that fades after time. Bellatrix must endure that then. Freedom was in reach._

Bellatrix clutched herself and held in the urge to vomit. It wasn’t clear if it was from the pain of her parents or how easily she threw away her humanity for an ounce of freedom. Perhaps it was the ichorous feeling inside from staring into Tom’s eyes. It coated her insides with darkness and her lungs felt like they were filled with tar. 

But then the wicked thrill of murder replaced it all. The addictive adrenaline and power rush had a taste she liked. Bellatrix coughed, losing her hold on her stomach, sick with how she enjoyed the feeling.

What cruel creature had she become? Would she become it again if she remembered herself? The thought chilled her to the bone. 

She glanced into the river’s waters disgusted with the person looking back. Her reflection was different than her appearance now. There was no gash across the nose or strange marking on her neck. Instead, her grey eyes were sharper and less hollowed in their gaze, but danger lurked in them—a hunter looking for prey. In a blink, the person looking back was her current visage, and there was a similarity between the two. Both had the demeanor of a soulless husk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry Bellatrix will not be excused for their actions. None of this excuses anything and Bella will def feel repercussions. In time my dears.


	10. Anxiety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may or may not notice the updated tags.
> 
> Genderqueer!Jack will be realized eventually, probably end of part 3 or beginning or part 4. The endgame pairing is no longer a triad, and in fact is a polycule of people with very questionable morals I've dubbed the polysquad and/or the Birates. [Alecto/Bellatrix/Jack/Calypso is the endgame]. Yes, Bellatrix will eventually switch to they/them pronouns. 
> 
> CW: Murder, blood, terrible abusive parents mention, Improper chest binding, gender dysphoria (body, specifically the chest but also overall), self hate, lots of anxiety
> 
> I think that covers it. If I'm wrong PM or send an Ask on tumblr (crucioandcoffee)
> 
> Also this chapter might be tweaked in the future. I will let y'all know if I do.

**Part Two: Monsters And The Gods Who Breed Them**

****

**(Bellatrix)**

Bellatrix collapsed into bed, and it was softer than she’d remembered. She’d spent the day avoiding Tia with a shame pushing down her shoulders. It hurt to speak, but this person she remembered caused a significant upset on her insides. It wasn’t just her gut wanting to retch everything up from disgust, but her heart beat irregularly at the flashes of memory, both in fondness of her Master, and others in fear. Her ribs ached like she’d cried for hours without ceasing, but that did not stop her from tightening the wrappings around her chest every time she found a glimpse of herself in a reflection. Which was worse? The anxiety tearing through her, or the pain? 

Bellatrix curled up despite the sun still bleeding its oranges through the canopy. Her mind couldn’t dare to stay awake much longer. She was exhausted in a way she remembered by merely how her muscles refused to work and how a hollow pit appeared in her heart and soul. The exhaustion was familiar to her muscles as they ached. Even if she didn't remember; her body did. 

" _Depression_ ," echoed in her mind and it was such a foul word, but why?  To her tongue and her family, it was vile as a curse word. It meant she was broken. But so many other things in that family meant that as well.

It was hard to discern and sift through the gaps. Bellatrix wanted to ask Tia for assistance seeing her skills with divination, but she could never bring herself to speak these atrocities aloud, nor admit her guilt as the vile human she was.

Her eyes fluttered closed as the exhaustion and emptiness swam around her. 

_ Blood. So much blood. It was a good thing Bellatrix had a fascination with it. The color, the texture, it’s purity. That was what this was about, wasn’t it? How pure this man was? Bellatrix watched the blood drip from her dagger and how it shined in the light. Its glint was faded and boring. Impure it was like her Master had said. _

_ She rubbed it between her fingers as a distraction to ignore the hollows gasps on the man. Slowly the air hissed out of him in one final breath, but Bellatrix made the mistake of watching. Maybe it was because there was too much blood or how the light left his eyes. A lump formed in her throat and her breath taken from her also. _

_ A stirring upset her stomach but made her heart flutter. She killed someone. Her head rushed with the power she had over him. Bellatrix didn’t even use magic as she was still too young and the trace would undoubtedly get her caught. _

_ But she didn’t just kill him. Her Master instructed torture, and so she delivered. She’d stab him every place that wasn’t lethal until her hands were soaked in red. _

_ Bellatrix went numb as soon as the rush left her. She froze and dropped the dagger, staring at her hands. Bellatrix killed someone. Bellatrix tortured someone. Her Master’s will was made but… something in her felt sick, worsened by the fact she enjoyed making him cry and beg. It felt wonderful driving her anger into a blade, piercing someone else, making them feel her pain instead. The sense of relief, however, was quickly smothered by claustrophobia. _

_ The room was small, and she stood over a body. Bellatrix couldn’t breathe. Too many conflicting feelings rushed through her head and upset her body. _

_ "It was his will,” she whispered. He wanted to see her dedication—its fruit bleeding out dead at her feet. Now he’d help her survive and escape. She proved herself. _

_ Then why did part of her feel hollower than before?” _

Bellatrix jerked up in the darkness and heaved for breath. Her skin cold and clammy against the heated Caribbean air. Even her hands shook as she rested her head against them. She cried only for moments before her breath evened out, but something uncomfortably snaked through her. Jerking awoke an agony in her lower left rib, but she took it quietly by clenching her jaw until that hurt worse.

“Bellatrix?” Came Tia’s tired voice; then a soft touch to her shoulder. “What’s wrong?” Tender came carried in her voice. It wasn’t playful or full of mischief like was during the day. Tia’s touch tingled through her shirt and waves of something soothed out the feelings in Bellatrix’s skin.

“I… uh… I remembered something,” she mumbled. “It’s nothing.”

Tia tipped her chin so their eyes met. A concerned and inspecting gaze flicked over her. Bellatrix immediately crossed her arms across her chest. 

“You’re pale, even for you.” Tia’s hand traveled down and took hers. “You’re shaking.” The gaze became burdened with questions. Bellatrix tried to escape, but Tia pulled her back to the bed. Curse her body’s weakness. “Let me help,” she said quietly. 

“You can’t. No one can. You… you made it worse by resurrecting me.” Bellatrix pulled her knees to her chest and held herself. “I feel incomplete. The more I remember I feel like I know myself, but I still feel incomplete. Fake. Hollow.” She turned to Tia with a blurred tear-filled gazed. “I don’t want to know this person. She’s evil. I can feel it. The sick rush she got from hurting people. She’s so angry and hurt. And he—he told her to take it out on who he wanted gone.”

Tia thumbed over her knuckles as she watched. “He,” she repeated beneath her breath. “One of those men you spoke of.”

Bellatrix nodded and let her gaze fall to both their hands. “The one who she was loyal to and blind to how cruel he was… especially to her. Her Master. Lord, she called him.” Her insides felt sticky with tar as she thought about him. Any ideas or memories that lingered more than a few seconds tainted her further with their evil. She put her hand over her mouth. No more. Bellatrix could speak no more about this, or fight the sickness upsetting her stomach.

Arms wrapped around her though and brought her to Tia in a soft embrace. Bellatrix rested her head on her shoulder and gave in immediately. Tia was warm, soft to the touch, and unnaturally soothing. She liked the feeling of being in her arms. It was safe.

Tia remained quiet, and so did Bellatrix. Fingers ran through her hair and tangled in with her curls. But the hold on her tightened, not with care. Tia exhaled with annoyance clearly in it. What did she do to annoy Tia?

“You should tell me about him in the morning,” Tia said quietly and with caution. She released Bellatrix and shoved her away gently. “I have a suspicion. Go to sleep, Star. He is not here to hurt you.” As soft as her words were, they made Bellatrix’s skin prickle. 

She swallowed and stared as Tia put her back to her and laid down to rest. Bellatrix sat in the quiet raking her stare over Tia. Something bothered the witch and Bellatrix didn’t like the feeling it had to do with her. Still, she laid down and hushed her mind. For once it listened and settled it’s manic thoughts and anxieties.

* * *

 

Morning came, and weight in the bed shifted. Tia had moved off of it while she remained. Bellatrix had been awake for hours already, waiting for the sun to bring warmth. Throughout the night a feeling plagued her. Cold and ice freezing enough to numb the skin and the muscles beneath. The bed was the texture of stone instead of its soft sheets. Her last hope of removing this mental trap of sensations was the sun to warm her. It was like she hadn’t felt the sun on her skin in years.

Even as rays peaked in the window, she did not warm. The air still hung heavy from humidity but bared no warmth. Bellatrix shivered and rubbed her wrists. Her ribs ached at the movement as well as her spine stiffening with pain. 

_I thought I was healed._  Bellatrix’s physical shape and condition had improved the last year she was alive, but maybe dying reversed it all. Hopefully, it would mend as she recovered from resurrecting. Days went by, and she’d ache less, so that had to be it. She did have to recover from being a corpse. But the amount of time that had passed since she resurrected was lost to her. It was merely sunrise to sunset.

This cold feeling did not aid her recovery, nor prompt her to want to leave the bed. Dread filled her along with guilt, anger, loss. So many feelings swam in her head with no context. The missing memories leaving gaps filled with pain. 

Shadows passed her vision, and she blinked rapidly and rubbed her eyes to clear her sight. Only when she looked out at the wall again did a large wraith or shade hover over her. A horrible empty, or hollow, breathing escaped its chest, if it had one, as it hovered over her. Her body went colder—frozen and stinging with the chills. Bellatrix jolted into a sitting position and backed hastily. She had to get away. If she didn’t, there was hurt and acknowledgment. 

Her back hit something, but she still tried to back away from the shade. It was called something, had a purpose, and a horrible one at that. But it was not what she worried about. That creature made her think, remember, relive the things she wanted buried—even if those things remained a mystery to her.

Soft pressure rested on her shoulders. Bellatrix froze in place shaking and staring at the creature. 

“Bellatrix,” came a feminine voice with a strong accent.

Hands rubbed her shoulders, and she blinked away tears. Her heart beat in her ears nearly drowning out the call of her name. But she heard and how gently it was murmured. The shade vanished into a waft of smoke. Bellatrix collapsed and let out a loud cry, or scream, both. Her throat stung as the emotions released through tears, and her body shook.

The heat and humidity hit her finally with a drastic uncomfortable shift. It made her shaking worse. A gentle hand touched her cheek and its owner shushing her. 

“Star,” Tia said. She rubbed her knuckles across Bellatrix’s cheek and wiped at the tears. 

Bellatrix jerked away at the pity in her voice. Words failed her. Alone. She needed to be alone. Yet, Tia’s touches were soothing and easing the pain, if only a little. Bellatrix opened her mouth, but all she managed was a cough.

“Don’t push yourself. You’re safe. Nothing is here but me.” 

She turned onto her back and glanced up. Tia stood over her in her nightclothes still but a warm smile on her lips. It was different and contrasting to her eyes. They were harder, still concerned, but harder. In seconds of meeting glances, however, Tia’s eyes softened with a fondness Bellatrix didn’t understand.

“You’re safe,” Tia repeated, quiet and a soft coo. 

Bellatrix’s tears slowed to a halt and her breath normalized. She stared up at the ceiling blankly. Too many questions floated around in her head, and none would slow down. They all rattled in her head and bounced off each other rapidly. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It didn’t help at all, and a headache bloomed in her temples. The instinct to isolate still pounding with her heartbeat.

“Come down for breakfast. We can talk after. I can’t help if you hide from me.”

Bellatrix nodded, said nothing, and kept her eyes closed. The soft patter of Tia’s feet around the room calmed her nerves some, all until she left. Once alone, Bellatrix tightened her hands it fists, ripping into her shirt sleeves. 

“ _I don’t need help,_ ” one thought said insinuating the anger to continue boiling. It poked and prodded her pride to burn.

“ _I’m beyond help,_ ” said another thought. It cooled the fire to a mere simmer. Bellatrix released her fists.

“ _I'm not worthy of help,_ ” a final thought corrected.

Bellatrix did not leave the room at all that day.

* * *

 

The shade returned to her dreams occasionally, and soon Bellatrix gave up on finding peace in her sleep—if she could sleep. Day by day with each new memory it quickly became worse than being awake. She was trapped in the dreams and all their agony. 

Bellatrix then spent less time with Tia as well. The avoidance being fueled by a lack of self-worth even if she was too proud to admit it. After everything she’d remembered; help was something Bellatrix did not think she deserved. So she spent most her days wandering the swamp and finding the quickest ways to the secluded beaches. The crashing of the waves and soft lapping at the shores filled her with calm and desire. She missed the sea. Bellatrix wished she had a ship and could disappear on it over the horizon. 

Whatever she was in her old life, couldn’t compare to how perfect she felt as a pirate. She was still awful but sailing the seas had more fulfillment than anything he made her do.

Strangely the way Bellatrix felt from the sea’s prescience mimicked some feelings around Tia Dalma: calm, peaceful, safe. So Bellatrix spent most hours of the day sitting on the sand and watching the waves. Today was no different. 

Bellatrix walked across the wet sands and dug her bare feet into it. The softness of it and coolness grounded her in the moment, and the memories didn’t bug her. She glanced around to check if she was alone, and so she was. Bellatrix paused, staring at the glimmer of a reflection in the water. Her image wasn’t a twisted version of herself, or whoever she was remembering, but instead a version she’d never spoken aloud to anyone before. They still had her long black curls, but their jaw somehow stronger, with their eyes holding the same intensity of silver and calculation. 

She looked around again. Still alone. Bellatrix pulled off her loose shirt and tossed it behind her. The swirling sea didn’t ruin the image surprisingly, but Bellatrix blinked confused by what she saw. Her reflection was shirtless too but no bindings like her. They had a flat chest, and their build slightly more muscular. Not enough that it changed her silhouette, but enough to make her jealous, even if she didn’t know why. The person staring back at her could be seen as a woman or a man, but Bellatrix couldn’t shake that they were somehow both and neither. 

That androgyny was an attractive idea, only for doubts and internal dismissive thoughts to rupture in her. The voice of her mother, and father, cursing child her for even whispering such ideas stuck to her lungs and she could no longer breathe. 

Bellatrix’s anxiety spiked, and she kicked the waves with a grunt—dispersing the vision. She tightened the chest wrappings as much as she could. It wasn’t their purpose to bind her chest. They were only to keep perverts from glancing down her shirts and vest, but now Bellatrix couldn’t control her stress. She tightened them worse every day to her ribs and chest’s pain.

* * *

 

Night came faster than anticipated, and Bellatrix held out at the beach as long as she could. The dimming sunlight left a purple sky and orange glitter on the sea. She wanted to take in every breath of it she could. But she needed to head back if there was any chance of finding her way home. Bellatrix paused, blinked, questioned. When did Tia’s house become home? 

Even with that question bothering the back of her mind, she put her shirt back on and rounded her way through the trees towards Tia.

It took longer in the dark than she would have liked. Dark shadows followed her, and they were nothing more than memories and the shades chasing her. Bellatrix paused more often to twist in her heels to stare at the shadows, but whatever lingered in them dispersed as she did. Her daily rounding through the swamp and forest helped her find her way back without falling in the river or the other stagnant waters. 

The yellow light of lamps came to vision in the dark. She’d found her way back to the village unscathed. With all the dangers in the area, something tickled her that she was the worst of them all, even without a wand. All she needed was something sharp.

Bellatrix walked up the steps to the front door but paused on the porch. She looked back at the river’s calm waters and went back down to it on the small dock. The light was dim and swallowed by darkness a few feet from its source, but still enough cast a shadow across the river. A tiny sparkle of light drifted over the water. Bellatrix did not disturb it, but it rippled on its own. Her reflection that person she saw earlier at the beach. They hadn’t changed at all except they seemed sadder. The reflection moved on its own even as Bellatrix was still. They paced around flickering from one area to another, keeping a sad eye on her. Bellatrix rubbed her eyes. She had to be hallucinating. That’s not how reflections work, nor did she look anyway similar to how it appeared. 

The reflection stopped in front of her, looking off to the side. They turned to her with sad eyes, and their mouth moved to speak. There was no sound, but she heard the words clear in her mind. 

“ _It won't be like this forever_ ” they said. Their eyes traveled up looking at the house above. “ _Trust her. She’ll come to realize it, just like you, soon enough._ ” 

Blue light hummed a glow on her reflection’s face, and beneath their shirt. It radiated across their ribs, down their arm, and on a rune that just now appeared below their eye. The light flashed brighter, blinding Bellatrix, and in a blink, she had no reflection at all. Just a shadow following her movements. 

Bellatrix took a shaky breath. “I’m losing my mind.” She glanced up at the house. “Realize what?” she whispered.

Even with the strange vision, she went home. Bellatrix walked in and closed the door softly behind her. Thoughts about the vision tumbled in her mind still and confusion on why she thought of it as ‘they’ instead of ‘she’. If that was her, why that difference? Bellatrix didn’t have the mental energy to question or contemplate over it. The stress of it all wore her down like age-old shoes. Truthfully, all she wanted to do was to fall into bed and sleep for a week. 

Tia popped her head out of the back room. “You are home,” she said with a smile. 

Bellatrix waved but said nothing. The interactions of the past few days gave her mixed signals. Often Tia was more frustrated than pleased with her presence, but then opposite later, giving Bellatrix nothing but gentle care. 

“Is something wrong?” Tia met her in the middle of the front room, looking up at her curiously. The light caught her brown eyes perfectly and that low burning ember glow in them shined. She felt Bellatrix’s arms and then shoulders. “You are tense,” she said quietly. Her hands moved too close to Bellatrix’s chest.

Bellatrix grabbed Tia’s wrists gently. “No.” She let go after pushing them away. 

Tia narrowed her eyes as she glanced up, but not cruelly. This was one of those rare soft moments. “Something is wrong. Tell me, I cannot help if you don’t tell me anything.”

“I… I don’t know how to tell you.” Bellatrix exhaled, exasperated. She was tired of her feelings and those broken shards hurting her. Nor her inability to say them. Every time she opened her mouth to speak, her throat closed, sickness took her stomach, and shamed weighed on her chest. “It hurts to say it. Any of it.”

Tia swiped her thumb across Bellatrix’s cheek. A brush of warmth traveled across her skin from it. A knowing sad look washed over Tia’s expression. “Someone has taught you your feelings are shameful.” The way her voice quieted, sad, but stern, hiked the anxiety already rustling in Bellatrix’s chest. A gentle hand was placed on her shoulder, and another cupping her cheek. “I don’t share that person’s opinion. Star, what’s wrong?”

Bellatrix placed her hand on Tia’s and closed her eyes. “It’s strange,” she began, stopping to breathe. “I don’t know how to explain it. Just… looking at myself makes me feel stressed. I’m uncomfortable. I’m me… but not. I don’t know.” She took another deep breath, shaky as it was, before admitting, “I saw a vision early. Looking at my reflection. It was me, but I looked different. I was jealous of that me.” She clicked her teeth shut. It felt wrong to talk about. In the distance in the back of her mind her parents’ voices rattled around. 

The rhetoric they spewed at their a child filled her veins and sunk into her bones. Bellatrix could say no more about it. She merely was being stupid and childish, she had to be. It was just her curiosity getting the best of her, but then why did she feel such intense jealousy of that vision. It felt more right than she did in the moment.

“It’s nothing,” she finished. “I’m just very stressed out. Do you have anything to help?” 

Tia eyed her but nodded. “I can make something. It’ll take a few hours. Rest upstairs, and I’ll bring it to you. You seem in need of it.” 

Bellatrix pulled away fast to avoid Tia’s gaze much longer. Something about it touched her heart or maybe her soul, if she even had one, in a way that brought warmth, a sense of longing, and profound loneliness she couldn’t swallow. The quick glance at Tia showed a similar pain flicker over her features. They broke apart, and Bellatrix hurried up to the bedroom. 

She collapsed into the bed and buried her face in a pillow. Within minutes she was asleep, wrought with the nightmares of her memories.

* * *

 

In the darkness there was nothingness, but the crash of waves always filled it. No matter what dreams or memories she endured, they always ended with a soft rhythm of the sea as she drifted in the void. Warmth washed over her shoulders and Bellatrix didn’t know what to make of it. She was alone, floating there, staring at the blackness.

Her eyes fluttered closed only to open in reality. It was dark with a small lantern placed on the end table. Bellatrix glanced around and rolled back, just to fall into Tia’s lap. 

“Hm?” She mustered as sleepiness still held her voice silent.

“I have your potion. I made enough to last a few weeks.” Tia held a small cup in front of her. She kept a soft smile full of affection Bellatrix so rarely saw. Her cheeks burned before she looked away and grabbed the cup.

Bellatrix drank it like a shot of tequila. A craving for alcohol hitting her like a brick right after, only for everything in her body to soothe. Even the sharp feelings eased, and Bellatrix was calm. It felt like the first time in years since she had such peace. The only other moment being in death and staring at the shores of the afterlife. But she was alive now. But which was better, she didn’t know. Perhaps life was because even if not open about it, Bellatrix did catch the soft gazes from Tia and the fondness she tried to hide. It was a touch of love Bellatrix never had. She didn’t want to let it go.

Tia’s hand rested on her shoulder, softly massaging it. Bellatrix leaned into it. Her muscles were so sore from constantly being tense. Every memory wound her up harder. On any other day, she’s probably snap in two if pushed the wrong way. Bellatrix flipped onto her stomach, and let Tia continue to massage her back and shoulders. 

Even when her hands slipped under her shirt. But Bellatrix hissed in pain when Tia touched her back’s middle, where the wrappings crossed it. 

“Star,” Tia whispered. “These are too tight. It’s not good for you—“

Bellatrix curled up and hugged a pillow. She breathed deeply and finally spoke. “I tighten the wrapping every time I see my reflection. I can’t stand to look at myself like that.” 

Tia touched the small of her back softly and then slowly undid the wrappings. “You are hurting yourself.”

She was too fearful to protest. Even with the potion, dread filled her. 

“I can acquire looser shirts. Ones that will hide your chest mostly. Better than the deep collared ones you’ve been wearing.” Tia quieted before pushing up the shirt and exposing Bellatrix’s back to the warm night air. “I don’t want you to hurt,” she murmured. “It’s the last thing I want.”

Bellatrix froze, unable to respond. It was hard to even accept the words, and actions, let alone understand them. Care. It had been so long since she had it, like this at least. Bellatrix might not remember everything or most of her life, but she remembered the dark loneliness and pain. 

Tia touched her lower ribs, and she jerked harshly. Tears pricked her eyes. “Star…” she said softly. Tia put her hand gently on Bellatrix’s ribs. She didn’t catch the spell, but a pleasant warmness spread diluting the pain into nothing. “How long had that rib been broken?”

“Since I woke up,” Bellatrix responded with timidness. “I didn’t think much of it. When do I not hurt?” 

There was no more talk after a sigh from Tia. Instead, the massage continued.  Tia’s soft touches eased her into a soft safety she didn’t know she needed and Bellatrix drifted asleep feeling heavenly.

For the first time since awaking, she had a blissful rest and sweet memories. Bellatrix just wished she could name that man in her dreams that tasted like spiced rum and had a mischievous smile that made her swoon. His touch didn't hurt like her Master's. It soothed just like Tia's.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry bellatrix will have a worse freak out once they remember even more of the bad things they've done. They're not off the hook.
> 
> Bellatrix becomes less of a disaster and starts being helpful pretty soon. So. Shippy feels to come my dudes.
> 
> I’d appreciate positive feedback if you have any.


	11. Bound In Her Bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta's by my good friend concerningwolves
> 
> CW: Referenced self-harm, infected wounds, gender dysphoria, blood, bipolar disorder (missed anything let me know in an ask on tumblr.)

**Part Two: Monsters And The Gods Who Breed Them**

****

**(Calypso)**

* * *

The night air was cooler than usual, but always a pleasant change. Calypso bustled about preparing potions for villagers and clients, along with an array of questionable objects of even more questionable morals. The weeks had passed, and Bellatrix needed more potions for her anxiety. The pirate went through them quicker than Calypso anticipated. Just another potion to add to the list.

She kept a distracted eye on the charms hung around Barbossa’s corpse in the far corner of the room. With no hints yet from Fate as to when she’d need to resurrect him, keeping a dead body within her dwelling-place was uncomfortable. But what were a few months? A Year? It was a blink for her and nothing worth remembering. Days blurred together. Neither she nor Bellatrix knew how long had passed; counting the days was unneeded and time was under no pressure.

Bellatrix stayed away most hours, locked up in the bedroom, with the only noise being her occasional pacing . It was incredibly frustrating at the very least. Calypso couldn’t help if she was never told the problem, and she needed Bellatrix in top shape for whenever it was time to move forward with the plan.

The potions gave Bellatrix moments of calm, but she was still a being full of burning rage. Bellatrix was the angriest mortal she’d ever met to an infuriating degree. Calypso had no issue calming her, but Bellatrix would then lock herself away once more. It was a game of cat and mouse, and it was becoming much too common for Calypso’s liking. Calypso hid her disdain and annoyance by practiced performance or illusions. Bellatrix’s anger had a story hidden within it, and no matter how hard Calypso tried to ignore it—the need to know and pry won out.

She could not help her moments of softness either. Calypso had a weakness for the pirate and it was easier to allow it to consume her for a few moments than to fight against it. Being torn between caring for and using Bellatrix split Calypso apart more than she liked. Swaying between the two confused her, but it also brought out an empathy within herself that she hadn’t been aware of. It did not like the concept of using Bellatrix as a mere means to an end. .

What made this monstrous pirate so special? Who broke her so harshly—that man she spoke of? Her master?

Calypso dropped in the final herbs of her potion and ended with a few calculated stirs. The hours had gotten away from her again, and it was well past meal time. Her stomach growled and Calypso rolled her eyes. This form was so needy, requiring so much upkeep to keep it running. She missed simply being and existing with no other requirements—powering over her domains with ease.

It did not take long for a meal to be prepared with enough for her and Bellatrix. In fact, she could not recount the last time she’d seen Bellatrix eat or sleep. They shared a bed for Gods’ sake, but in her hazes, as she fell asleep, Bellatrix was awake and glaring up at the darkness. Bellatrix would either stay to her edge of the bed or disappear, so that Calypso woke to a cold spot next to her. If they ever became close, she’d inch away, as if afraid of the contact. The circles under Bellatrix’s eyes deepened every day and her form appeared more skeletal.

Calypso ate her meal and left out a portion for Bellatrix as she always did. It was a waste of food at this point. She never could get the pirate to eat, or let alone down to the main floor. If she wasn't in the bedroom, she was out in the swamp or the beach.

Footsteps softly creaked down the wooden staircase. Bellatrix came down timidly to the first floor and lingered at the bottom step. Her weight shifted back and forth with restless unease on her features. Calypso turned to Bellatrix with a placid smile on her lips as she swallowed her brooding frustration. She had patience, strangely, and each time it was displayed Bellatrix reacted with such speechlessness and astonishment. At that moment, all Bellatrix did was eye her cautiously.

“Are you hungry?” She asked. Spices lingered in the air from her cooking, and the distinct sound of a starved stomach growling met her ears.

Every time Calypso inspected Bellatrix she found another layer of injury. First, it was the scars, then her binding her chest too harshly, and now it was clear Bellatrix was not as healthy as she looked at first glance. More days she looked sick and malnourished even with the muscles she had. But those were weaker than they appeared as well. Perhaps Bellatrix was a skeleton. Stranger things had happened. Death must have robbed her of whatever strength and health she had, but it would return in time. Or so she hoped.

Lust lingered beneath Calypso’s need to have Bellatrix strong and healthy for her plans. Bellatrix attracted her in too many ways to count, and many more she refused to acknowledge. And the confidence she held after wearing the charmed shirts Calypso gave her did not help in the slightest. The charm helped guise her chest to be less, and since Bellatrix held her shoulders higher and a stronger glint to her eye if Calypso ever had the luck of seeing her.

But Bellatrix did not have that confidence now. She neither stepped towards Calypso, nor away.

“Bellatrix?” Calypso reached out and held her hand open for the pirate to take it.

Bellatrix did not. Instead, her gaze shifted away quick and focused on her own hands. “I have so much blood on my hands.”

Calypso did not enjoy how small and broken it sounded. It came out more strained even than when Bellatrix had been resurrected.

“I was following my master’s orders… and sometimes not… Sometimes he let me loose like a beast or a weapon.” Bellatrix took a shaky breath and flexed her fingers. “I’ve killed so many people, and left some wishing they were dead.”

" _The count of those murdered before must be larger than any of the carnage she left in Barbossa’s wake,_ " Calypso thought.

It was no secret to Calypso that Bellatrix was an excellent killer. Her reputation in the last year was proof of that, but this had a different tone to it. She quirked a brow and inspected her before taking Bellatrix’s hands. There was blood beneath her nails and a tinge of it on the pads of her fingers, but nothing more.

Calypso thumbed over Bellatrix’s knuckles. “Does this bother you? The death you’ve caused? As we met that seemed to be the least of your worries.”  

Bellatrix’s shoulders shook as she peered down at her. “It does. I can feel it, beneath the skin, the pain, and anger. I feel sick with all these memories. I don’t like this person. She felt no remorse—“Bellatrix swallowed harshly and audible—“she didn’t care at all… and I don’t know if I do. There are so many feelings… and aches...” She pulled away without a second glance to Calypso. “This person scares me.”

Calypso reached out to her and took her wrist gently. She pulled up the sleeve of her shirt. Thankfully there were no new cuts. That blood she saw must be memory sticking to something tangible.

Bellatrix flexed her fingers before making fists. She kept her gaze at the floor with her shoulders shaking. “So much pain,” she cried. “It won’t stop. The anger is too much. I’m drowning in it and the sadness.” Bellatrix frowned with such unpleasant intensity. “How could she hold all of this in? How did she function at all?” She sighed and collapsed down onto her knees, head in her hands, and shaking violently. "Especially with no goddamn sleep!"

Calypso observed. She could feel the pain, right in her heart, and it left a crack growing in her chest. It wasn’t pity anymore. Something new gave her these empathetic feelings, but Calypso didn’t want to know what. She knelt next to Bellatrix and pried her hands away from her face.

“There you are,” she said quietly. Calypso pulled Bellatrix to look at her, and the dull gaze she was met with made her heart sink. In the back of her mind, that rage Bellatrix spoke of writhed. It felt familiar like she’d encountered it in a dream. Perhaps her true form related more than her mortal one could.

Silence. Bellatrix’s shaking lessened but never stopped completely. Her eyes kept a wary watch on Calypso and the room. “Please…” she whispered. “Make it stop.”

Calypso kissed Bellatrix’s forehead with a care she didn’t mean to. Her eyes closed and darkness consumed the world. They opened to an endless dark sea with icebergs floating in its treacherous waters. Parts of it raged amid a thunderstorm so powerful Calypso felt at home in its presence. But then struck the doom of it. She stood on the surface of the sea, her footsteps rippling out into the raging waves. A glance down and deep below the surface was Bellatrix asleep, floating in the waves, and drowning, sinking deeper and deeper.

Air bubbles floated up from Bellatrix’s lips, but she remained still. Calypso kneeled to reach for her when the dark, thunderous clouds sent streams of smoke to surround her. They cut off her vision of Bellatrix, and three imposing figures appeared. Two tall, faceless men and one woman. The dread the smoke held permeated the air, and Calypso couldn’t breathe—the darkness was suffocating her.

But she snapped her fingers and pulled any ounce of her divine self to her, dispersing the smoke figures. They reformed some length away, but she had a glance of Bellatrix again. Beneath the waves, she rose closer to the surface.

An iceberg floated closer and grazed her skin. It burned like fire but still cold. Memories of a young girl with black hair and steely eyes blinked by and stung only to then numb. All she wanted was to protect her. The memories faded into nothingness. Calypso touched a different one, and the same feelings burned through her skin. Another and another, pain radiated through her all with the memories. Sometimes the hurt didn’t make sense with the few glimpses she saw. One, in particular, drew her into nothingness but any attempt to think failed. Calypso could not shake the focus on the vacuum and energy crackling through it. She needed to be free was a thought that came to mind. But it’s all her mind thought. The care for Bellatrix was forgotten, Davy Jones as well. The need for freedom was all she could focus on.

She let go of the ice, and everything else came back to her with such force that Calypso fell backwards on the sea’s surface. Bellatrix still floated below the waves.

“Bellatrix,” Calypso murmured.

The sea instantly calmed, and the thunderstorm rolled away. A small ray of sun broke through the grey clouds. It radiated down on Calypso. Then a second ray onto a figure made of seaspray. It wasn’t hard to figure out it was Jack Sparrow. But another figure appeared of fire with the small frame of a woman. All of them stood circled around the drowning Bellatrix.

Something felt incomplete. The two other figures faded and Bellatrix was dragged down into the depths, no longer visible. The sea couldn’t decide if it was calm or rough, switching between the two without rhythm.

Pain stung her skin with every rough wave that crashed against her. That was Bellatrix’s mood and unyielding tempest of emotions. The figures brought her calm, but it wasn’t enough. Her mind would always return rage in its uneven dualities.

Calypso had enough of it to last a lifetime. Her eyes closed and she reopened them to her home. But what a burden it must be for Bellatrix to have that as a constant.

Bellatrix glanced off to the side with drying tears on her cheeks. She wiped them away and considered what she could say. The was a plethora of what she could, but none of it helpful. Calypso held Bellatrix’s hands. She was still shaking.

“I can’t breathe,” Bellatrix whispered.

She stood and gently pulled Bellatrix up with her. Calypso brought her into an embrace, threading her fingers through her hair, and gently shushing her. There needed to be calm or else she feared what troubles would consume them both.

“I may be able to help.” Calypso tipped Bellatrix’s chin to look down at her. The strange energy tingling her skin piquing interest yet again. Bellatrix’s eyes were dull, and none of their sharpness remained. “If you will let me,” she finished. It didn’t matter that she had the power to assist if Bellatrix did not want it.

Bellatrix reached out to her but shied away. She sighed with such sadness. “Why help me? I’m far from what anyone would consider good. I don’t deserve the help.”

Calypso couldn’t hide the smirk and scoff. “I do not care about what you have done. Why you did it. You’re hurting. That’s what I care about.” Her hands took Bellatrix's. "Star, you haven't even been born yet. Neither has your master. Here, you don't have to worry about that lifetime. Time is strange, and Fate is letting you start fresh. Do not toss away their gift."

That seemed to ease her for the moment. Bellatrix's shaking stopped, and she thumbed over Calypso's knuckles. Deep within herself, there was a piece of Calypso that was empty and longing for Bellatrix, but even then still not complete. A tender gesture such as that brought it to the forefront of her mind. It caused her spine to stiffen and chill how much she enjoyed the pirate's touch.

Calypso led Bellatrix to the small dining table and pushed her portion of food towards her. “Eat. Then rest. I will find you when I’m done.”

Bellatrix’s stomach growled, and she nodded. She slowly picked at the food while Calypso went to another room.

She ruffled through boxes looking for jewelry to enchant. Either what she found already had been charmed or was broken and unable to hold any magic. Calypso had quite the collection of artifacts, but what else was she supposed to do to keep herself entertained in such an isolated and boring form? The endless years of being trapped as a human led to endless testing of how far she could push her mortal capabilities. She needed her magic. It was the last connection she had to her real self, but even then it was barely a drop in a vast ocean.

The jewelry she held between her fingers couldn’t contain anything of the nature she needed. The charms she needed to enchant were too delicate, specific, and draining. There was a heavy risk the charms would wear out its host far quicker if placed in such a weak and fragile metal.

Amid her frantic search, Calypso found an intricately designed ring with silver and black filigree around a clear stone. That would have to do. She didn’t know what kind of crystal it was, but it radiated a strong aura—enough to hold the enchantment she had in mind. So, Calypso tinkered, drawing out incantations and runes on the pages of a faded book. Something wasn’t right about her spells, and the enchantment never stuck no matter how many small tweaks to the language or runes.

She stopped herself. Why was she using mortal’s languages of magic? Calypso was a goddess. Her mind and soul held knowledge of magical tongues that mortals didn’t even know existed. The immediate try after switching to her ancient runic language, the enchantment melded to the ring with a deep blue rune carving itself in the middle of the stone. It marked it as blessed by Calypso. She needed to practice her own runes more. By now she’d almost forgotten her own symbols, her own means of power and worship.

Calypso was losing every tie she had to being a goddess. Would she be free in time? Or would she lose her true self to the cage she was in?

She dug around her jewelry boxes more for a second set of protection. Calypso scraped together some earrings but all of them broken. It took more searching in the clutter, but she found feathers to add to the studs. One feather was a deep blue and another a bright red. She felt them between her fingers. They were natural and given willingly by the animal. That was enough to leave a strong aura.

Calypso enchanted them with ease—her language returning to her.

It was dark and quiet within the house. Bellatrix went to bed, and so Calypso took some quiet time to herself. She sat at her divination table watching nothing. Instead, she merely felt. Calypso didn’t stifle her feelings. Whatever fondness for Bellatrix consumed her, to follow with worry, memories of Davy Jones, then fear, anger, and rejection. She needed to steel herself and get rid of her emotions. By now even friendship with a mortal scared her. All attachments scared her. Calypso glanced at a table and the small shine of a locket catching her eye.

She exhaled with anger, to deflate into pain, and grief for what she’d lost.

The melody of her locket, her heart, stalked her, haunting Calypso for the rest of the evening. There would be no peace, but for such an ever-shifting being, that was not unusual.

* * *

A gentle touch shook her awake. Calypso’s eyes slowly opened, and she sat up to stretch. Her back was uncomfortably sore.

“Sleeping in that chair can’t be comfortable,” Bellatrix said while offering her a cup. She eyed it warily. “It’s one of the tonics you gave me for my rib.”

Calypso took the cup but never let her confused glance leave Bellatrix. She drank it slowly. “Why did you give me this? It’s yours.”

Bellatrix took the cup back and placed it down on the table. She touched Calypso’s shoulder and rubbed it gently. “You’ve given me a lot,” she said quietly. “I can’t just keep taking.” But she pulled her hand away with a tinge of pink on her cheeks. Bellatrix took a step back.

She caught the pirate’s wrist. “I have something for you.” Calypso studied Bellatrix. Stronger and more confident, but still to no degree of all those months ago. Bellatrix glanced back at her with curiosity.

Calypso smiled. “To help,” she said. She gestured to the jewelry in front of her. “A red earring to temper anger. Blue for sadness. The ring changes color depending on your mood… for when you cannot speak it, I’ll still understand. It will make life less of drowning in a deep angry sea, and calmer like the waters ashore. If you want it, Star.”

Bellatrix picked up the ring and her brows knitted together. “I know this symbol.” Her thumb rubbed over the rune bearing Calypso’s blessing.

Calypso took in a sharp inhale. “You do?”

_How? No mortal should know unless they’ve been trained, and such days were long dead._

Bellatrix put down the ring and pulled up her left sleeve. She traced her arm until she stopped to rub over a scar. “See.” Her fingers traced a rough, jagged cut, long healed, of the same symbol by that strange, dark snake tattoo.

“How?” Calypso could not hide the astonishment, or worry for what that meant for their connection.

“It’s just a symbol I saw a lot in my head as a child. When… when I started hurting myself sometimes, it’s the only thing that gave me comfort. I met a girl one day at the beach when I was small... and then it never left my mind. I don’t know why. But that’s why I cut it into me. Hoping it would make it stop.” Bellatrix slipped the ring on as well as the earrings. “Maybe this time it’ll work.” She tried a smile, but Calypso couldn’t buy it. There was a sense of hopelessness to Bellatrix’s words. It couldn’t be plainer. She’d given up on feeling better and healing.

Still, it was a smile, and she could not help but notice how cute Bellatrix looked with those earrings paired with it. Cute perhaps wasn’t the correct word, but it left a soft burn in Calypso’s cheeks.

But then Bellatrix's eyes narrowed with inspection. "Come to think of it. She looked an awful lot like you."

Calypso refused to acknowledge the statement and whatever implications it meant. She shrugged instead and watched Bellatrix leave the room. Worry filled her.

The enchantments would not work if they could not bind to Bellatrix’s magic, however attractive she looked, and she’d have no magic until her soul completely returned. Calypso could feel it inside herself. Cracks needed to be filled and mended inside Bellatrix, and for some reason, that feeling resonated in Calypso’s chest. Missing pieces and only shards of an identity bridged a painful walkway between them. Bits of her soul returned at a time and gave a new revelation that horrified her. This was unusual though. Most dead only needed a few days to become whole again.

It was painful to watch, even for someone like Calypso. As the weeks went on, she cared more and more about how Bellatrix was suffering. The shift from tool to company went slow but occurred.

The question remained: how long did Calypso have before Bellatrix gave up the enchantments because they did not work?

The dark, somber expression held in Bellatrix’s eyes and the visible burden on her shoulders did not give Calypso hope. Bellatrix looked empty yet filled to the brim. It lingered in her aura, turning it a dark blue, and left little faintly glowing fingerprints along the house.

_Star, be patient._

_Please…_

* * *

Calypso sat at her divination table casting readings while Bellatrix napped. Nothing was of aid, however. Unreadable tellings and disconnected omens. Strangely a few results repeated enough to be suspicious: a loop, the sea, weakness of the heart, shattered glass. She quietly sat with her head resting on her fist, breathing with purpose. Frustration would not leave. There had to be a purpose for this draw, connection, the nagging feeling of affection.

_What makes you special, Bellatrix?_

Calypso tsk’ed angrily when she had a response. Bellatrix was strong, stronger than any mortal she’d met. How she carried the burdens she did, even if Calypso did not know all of them, was concerning. No one should have to bear a weight so heavy. The notoriety Bellatrix gained from only a year under Barbossa’s command was impressive, to say the least. It made her wonder, who was she remembering, and how much worse was she than Devil Black?

But there was something else. Something hidden and packed away for no one to know. Bellatrix didn’t want it free, and Calypso would love to not care. But she did.

Soft tinkles of the beaded veil to the back broke her inner rambling. Calypso rubbed her temple. For a hundred or so years her inner musings were all that kept her company and was a habit she struggled to break.

“Tia?” Bellatrix said softly.

Calypso raised her hand so Bellatrix would see, and she frowned. She was tired of ‘Tia.’ It was a false name, and an annoying curiosity plagued her recently of wanting to hear Bellatrix say her name, her true name. It was a desire she buried. “ _Not yet,_ ” she’d have to remind herself. Her hesitation coming from a place of fear. _Wait for Fate’s clues._

She grew impatient.

Bellatrix touched her shoulder, drawing a gaze to her. “I… uh. Can I talk to you?”

Calypso could not help the quirk to her brow. What could she possibly want to talk about?

“Yes, Star, you may.”

Bellatrix pulled up a chair and sat across from her, knees pulled tight to her chest. Though her Star was in her mid-forties, Calypso only saw a scared little girl. A vision illusioned over Bellatrix as Calypso blinked. She was young again, still scarred, still intense, but sad, still hurting. Calypso knew that Bellatrix too. She could feel it in her chest and in her magic, her soul.

The intense need to cry stung at her eyes. It bore the question though, of why it was taking so long to become that Bellatrix again. It was like the creature before her wasn't Bellatrix at all, and instead, a being of gentleness—the most human Calypso had ever seen a mortal be.

But she forced away the vision, and adult Bellatrix returned.

“Do I have to become her again?” Bellatrix asked quietly. She didn’t look up and instead stared at the bones across the table.

Calypso took a moment to study her. Her eyes were glazed and shined in the soft lamplight. Bellatrix held herself tight and avoided looking at Calypso.

To her great regret she replied, “Unfortunately, you do. She and you are the same person. As you are now… you are an empty shell filling back with your soul. Her soul is yours.”

Bellatrix stiffened and squeezed her eyes shut. Lone tears fell down her cheeks. Calypso was concerned she’d break a tooth at how hard she clamped her jaw together. Her cheeks were heavily flushed with red.

“But,” she said in the tense silence, “perhaps your new perspective can change yourself.”

She glanced up with sad red eyes. They were tired too, lids falling even as she spoke. “What do you mean?” Her voice strained as she talked, but short of breath, exhausted.

“People are not set in stone. They change, ebb, flow, grow with the tide or fade away with it. But like the sea—“like Calypso—“they choose the change. The sea controls herself how she wants. I have no doubt you could do the same Star. You are… a stubborn one to say the least.” Calypso sat back and waited for her words to sink in. Besides merely being stubborn, Bellatrix had an aura she couldn’t place. It called to her like the sea did. Bellatrix’s presence brought a piece of Calypso back to herself. In some aspects… Bellatrix was the sea. Just as dangerous and cruel, exactly like Calypso herself, but gentle too.

But Bellatrix seemed to never acknowledge that gentleness. Instead, she focused on the evil she’d committed and how damned she was because of it.

“I could change her… me, I mean.” Those words pained Bellatrix’s face.

Calypso nodded. “Yes, Star. You cannot fix what’s been done. No one can. But the future is ever changing.” _Even Fate’s scribbles of prophecy shift with each person’s thread of change._

She stood by the table with her fingers tracing the old map, but then leaned against it. Calypso gazed down at Bellatrix who has curled in on herself. It was strange seeing her so vulnerable and soft. Her first impression of Bellatrix had faded by now, and even if she’d return to herself, she still would not be the same.

So who was Bellatrix, really?

Calypso touched her hand gently. Bellatrix’s skin was hot. Too hot. “Star?”

Bellatrix looked up at her with eyes still red from crying. But her gaze was unfocused. Beads of sweat rested on her forehead with her hair sticking to it.

She put the back of her hand to Bellatrix’s forehead. Hot. Calypso brushed her knuckles across her cheek and cast a spell. A little red spark materialized and hovered in the air. It traveled around Bellatrix’s body stopping at her thigh.

“May I?” She asked as soft as she could.

Bellatrix nodded and put her legs down to sit normally. Calypso pulled her trousers down stopping above the knee. Bellatrix pulled down her shirt to cover her privates and didn’t let go.

A bandage wrapped tightly on Bellatrix’s thigh, but it was bloodied and dirty. She unwrapped it to a deep cut surrounded by red irritated skin. Its color was off and concerning. A quick touch to it and the wound was hot as well.

“It’s infected. Star, when did you do this?”

_Her sword went missing a while ago. She probably used that and hid it from me. Star… why?_

“Don’t remember,” she mumbled.

Calypso put her trousers back as they should be and cast a charm to levitate her. As skinny as Bellatrix was Calypso was not the strongest. She took her to their bedroom and laid her down. Hastily she went back to her potion station and shuffled through her collection. Initially, she’d brewed extras of common healing potions as illness was more than frequent to those who depended on her as a healer. She found the last vial of potion for infections, but nothing of the sort to calm the fever.

Calypso grabbed a bowl and cloths, the vial of potion, heading back to the bedroom. Upon entrance, nervousness took her ribs and stole her breath. Bellatrix had passed out in the few minutes she was gone.

She undressed her bottom half, keeping the shirt on to respect Bellatrix’s anxiety, and applied the potion to the wound. There were streaks of red leading up and down Bellatrix’s thigh from the cut. No reaction from her though as the potion touched her skin. Usually, it stung. Calypso summoned cold water to fill the bowl and made a cold compress for the fever. She tipped Bellatrix’s head towards her and put it on her forehead.

Calypso tended to the wound best she could. The potion was working and the redness slowly fading. Bellatrix remained asleep with no improvement on her fever.

It was a strange feeling rustling in Calypso’s chest. Perhaps it was worry. Whatever it was it caused her to lightly shake, and she couldn’t stop checking Bellatrix’s fever. Eventually, she relented and kept on hand on her cheek, rubbing it, and trying to think of a spell. But none of them could be cast by her mortal body.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” she whispered.

The gap of trust suddenly clear to her. She didn’t know the witch as well as she thought, and a distance carved between them. Calypso was just another witch to Bellatrix. Even with the connection causing those electrifying tingles when they touched, they were strangers.

Tool or not. That did not sit well with Calypso.

* * *

Calypso sat in a chair she pulled up from downstairs. A bowl of fresh water levitated beside her as she dabbed Bellatrix’s wound with a cold cloth. She’d stayed asleep most hours the past day. The potions helped, but for whatever reason, Bellatrix’s body resisted healing.

“Hmph,” Bellatrix groaned trying to move. She fell in place on her back; her brows furrowed and pain stricken on her face. Her eyes opened only a sliver as she glanced around, dazed. “Where… he was just here.” Bellatrix attempted to sit up, but Calypso kept her laying for the moment.

_She must be remembering something mixed with her fever._

“Who was just here Star?”

“Beautiful bastard… tried to help. Didn’t work,” Bellatrix mumbled. Her eyes fluttered closed. “Where’d he go?” We’re her last words before Bellatrix passed out once more.

Calypso finished cleaning the wound and applying the potion. She vanished away the bloody water and went to leave.

“Jack,” Bellatrix said breathless and mumbled. The pain-stricken look on her features lessened, but not by much.

“Jack Sparrow?” Calypso said.

Despite seeming to be asleep, she had a snappy reply of “Captain.”

Calypso could not help her chuckle. Of course, those two would become close. They were so much alike; sly, dangerous and cruel, but also could be soft and caring. Bellatrix and Jack were blessed with a magical prowess most mortals could barely dream of as well as being annoyingly charming bastards who with a single glance made Calypso feel hot under the skin.

She had her passing fancies with Jack, as most people do. Not many could resist his charm until he angered them. Calypso missed his company at times. He got too close, so of course, she pushed him back. Just like she needed to do with Bellatrix.

* * *

Bellatrix remained in bed with her fever slowly going down over a few days. Unfortunately, Calypso was missing ingredients to brew a proper cure. Nor could she stop checking on the pirate either.

“Mortals. So fragile,” she would whisper, but with playfulness, she didn’t mean. As days passed malice towards Bellatrix was harder to conjure.

It was a quiet moment as Bellatrix napped and Calypso found space to herself. She stood in the center of the front room with arms across her middle. Her feet tired from pacing but she needed to think.

Calypso sighed at the stream of thoughts meandering through her mind. They weren’t urgent, but upsetting was a better way of putting it. It wasn’t hard to see parallels between her forming feelings for Davy Jones and the ones so cruelly worming their way into her heart for Bellatrix. She’d admit Bellatrix’s company was a gift as she’d been alone so long, and it made her stiffen to realize it was nice waking up to someone on the other side of the bed.

But Calypso didn’t want this. No matter what good feelings and flutters her heart tempted her with. She would not let another mortal in.

Her eyes watched the room, eyeing for a distraction. Instead, she caught a shine of metal. A soft melody played to her ears and plucked on her heartstrings as she picked up, and opened, a locket shaped with a heart and crab claw. Calypso bit her lip hard and let that be the excuse for the tear that rolled down her cheek. But it could not excuse the pain thumping through her with her heartbeat.

She snapped the locket it shut as the song ended. The pain did not stop, and the tears flowed free. It wasn’t often Calypso would acknowledge Davy Jones’ actions wounded her. One misstep according to him was enough to cut her out. His heart was hers, and he took that from her all because she didn’t show the one day. What was one day when they had eternity?

It was no secret Calypso had a habit of being a trickster. Even Davy Jones thought it to be amusing. But of course, like most men, they believe they have control, and a challenge to that was unforgivable. What he once loved of her, gone, because she was merely herself. But she’d never change for a man.

She wiped her tears as soft footsteps came down the stairs. Calypso cast a charm to hide her sore eyes and turned to Bellatrix. “You’re awake. Star, you should be in bed.” She touched Bellatrix’s forehead. “Your fever is still high. Rest.” Her hands rested nicely on her neck, softly rubbing it. Bellatrix’s skin was entirely too warm, but it was better than the cold of her Star’s nightmares.

Bellatrix scanned her over with a soft gaze. “I had a feeling you were upset about something. I came to check on you. You’ve been mothering me so much… but what about you?”

Calypso froze. Her gaze unfocused as tears fought to spill over. Hopefully, the charm would hide it.

“I’m fine. It’s nothing to worry about.” She pulled away her touch and Bellatrix frowned.

“No, it’s not.” She pointed to her chest. “I can feel it in here.”

Calypso crossed her arms. “Go back to bed, Bellatrix.” She didn’t like the slight flinch Bellatrix did at her harsh tone, but she needed to rid herself of the pirate for the moment.

What she really wanted was a hug, but she sent Bellatrix away instead.

Her fingers rubbed the locket before she placed it on the table. When would she be able to let go? It was pathetic of her, a goddess, wounded over some mortal’s hubris. But of course, it was hubris that broke her, especially with a body to feel its ache so deeply.

Calypso watched the stairs. “How did she know?”

* * *

It was rare she went to the shore, but amid all the strange feelings, Calypso needed to take a moment to herself. The waves crashed softly and lapped at her feet. She sighed at how cool and welcoming the water was. Her magic tugged at her to be closer to it. The push and pull of the tide beat with her heart and ebbed with her breathing.

A tear rolled down her cheek. She missed the sea. No matter how deep she could go into it, it was never the same. Merely being near or in it wasn’t enough. Calypso missed being it; being free and every changing, answering to no one. Nothing could compare to feeling in control and being an expanse of beauty… and terror. That high was long lost to her, and the fear it would never return becoming closer to fact than just anxiety. Her power is what men wanted for themselves, but that’s not what she cared about, not at that moment at least. Calypso just wanted to feel whole again instead of that gaping hole constantly growing in her chest.

The call of the waves filled her ears and a deep upset filled her insides. Yes, she was sitting on the shore right in front of it, but she never felt so far from it. The depression filled that missing shard of herself inside.

Calypso now knew how much she’s lost of herself, and how desperately she missed feeling any ounce of her divine self. The ocean against her feet teased her endlessly. She felt average, plain, boring. Where was the trickster goddess mortal’s feared? Where was the goddess, that divinity, that strong being Jones loved?

Nowhere near her.

She put her face into her head but refused to cry. Calypso was so tired of crying. Instead, she rested in the sun until it was dark. The waves pulled away from her with the going tide, and that’s when she cracked. But she bit her lip and forced the tears to stop. Calypso left the beach with a longing glance back at the sea…

Only to find once in bed, besides Bellatrix, she felt closer to it than she had in decades.

“What are you,” she whispered, glancing over the sleeping pirate.


	12. Stress And Stealing Glances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Contains: gender dysphoria (chest, body, bottom, social) (lots of focus on gender in general in this chapter), abuse, Bellatrix being the definition of a bisexual disaster

**Part Two: Monsters And The Gods Who Breed Them**

**(Bellatrix)**

* * *

It was quiet in the home besides the soft chopping noise of Tia preparing her ingredients. Bellatrix was in the other back room staring down at Barbossa’s corpse. A plethora of things to say fought to escape from her parted lips. But nothing ever did. She felt under her shirt where the jagged, rough gunshot scar was as she stared at him.

“Men,” she snapped under her breath. From everything she could remember, men only brought her pain. Her father, her master, her uncle.

But her mind drifted to one who despite his reputation and general sly nature was the exact opposite of all of them—to her at the very least. She couldn’t remember his name, and that pained her worse than she liked. It was never happy memories either where she’d see his face. He was just there, in her time of need, or when she needed an accomplice for whatever goal she had before dying. But still, she also remembered his smile, and how he looked at her. For a cutthroat, it was softer than she’d imagine, but then again not many dared to look at Devil Black in such a way.

His smile reminiscent of an unpredictable trickster god, and it made her heart flutter. She missed him dearly despite a heavy weight confusion clouding those thoughts. The two never bonded really, besides physically, her vague memory recalled, but a piece of her felt lost without him. Her skin desperately missed his touch. He was the only man respect her saying no to some touches, yet it sounded unlike him. Whoever he was, confusion followed and cloaked him.

His name carried infamy and notoriety, this she knew even if it was lost to her, and so why was he gentle? Bellatrix was worse than him, worse than Barbossa, worse than the mere whispers of Blackbeard.

She shouldn’t care why. Just that she missed him.

Bellatrix glanced back at her uncle. “I have so much I want to scream at you.” She crossed her arms across her stomach in both anger and holding herself. “But all I really want to know is why.”

Barbossa couldn’t tell her though, and she had a strong doubt he would once he was awake.

Every man she remembered brought more questions than answers and no comfort. All but that one sly cutthroat brought pain.

Bellatrix slowly shuffled away, continuously glancing back at him before entering the other back room. Tia still stood cutting potion ingredients. Her shoulders were lower than usual, and her posture slack with none of her attractive confidence. Bellatrix observed as Tia brewed. Her presence ignored like she didn’t exist.

Tia hissed in pain, and Bellatrix was at her side immediately. She pried the knife out of Tia’s hand.

“You’re not feeling well,” Bellatrix said. A curiosity poked into her mind as the blood on the knife wasn’t a deep red, but a dark pink that shined like oil in water. Same for the droplets on her finger.

Tia shrugged and kissed her finger, healing it. “It doesn’t matter Star. I’ll be fine.” She tried to push Bellatrix aside, but thankfully she’d been working her body strength up. Tia had no choice but to give up. “Star,” she grumbled.

“It matters to me,” Bellatrix said quietly. She brought Tia into a hug and kissed her forehead. The loneliness didn’t hide itself well in Tia’s eyes or her posture. So, Bellatrix tried harder to be gentle and comforting, as uncomfortable as it was, Tia was more important.

To Bellatrix’s great relief, Tia didn’t fight the embrace. She leaned against her and loosely wrapped her arms around her waist.

“What’s wrong?”

Tia sighed. “I cannot begin to tell you in a way you’d understand. So much Star. So much.”

Bellatrix hugged her tighter. “Do you want to try?”

“I don’t know.”

She released Tia and stepped away; feeling the rejection deep in her bones. Tia stood before her bubbling cauldron frozen in quiet. Minutes passed like hours, but Tia went back to work with a gaze like ice water. Bellatrix knew when she was not wanted. It hurt, but Bellatrix didn’t have a right to argue. Instead, she went outside and climbed trees wishing for more strength and a distraction from her aching chest.

Bellatrix didn’t understand it, but then again, she didn’t understand much of anything anymore.

* * *

Whatever little sun filtered through the canopy doused into a purple night sky. Bellatrix rounded back to Tia’s house by memory even in the darkness. The door creaked as she pushed it open and she froze trying to sneak in quietly. She closed the door softly behind her.

Tia had her head propped on her hand asleep in her chair. Her eyes closed, and so Bellatrix found it safe to smile at the soft moment. For once neither of them had a strained posture or twitch to their face. It was just existence in much needed quiet. The tired but tranquil expression on Tia’s face caused a gentle burn in Bellatrix’s cheeks.

“Tia,” Bellatrix murmured as she approached. “You can’t sleep here. You’ll hurt your back.” She lifted her into her arms. Tia was light enough for her to hold her bridal style.

She smirked when Tia curled in to rest against her, along with her heart thumping annoyingly hard. Bellatrix took Tia upstairs and sat her on the bed. The lamp she’d kept in the room, however, was missing. Bellatrix could hardly see anything outside of the dim yellow light from the village outside. Tia stood, eyes half closed, and with a tired exhale, attempted to undo the ties on the back of her dress.

She took Tia’s hands into hers, gently pushing them away from the strings. “Let me,” Bellatrix murmured.

Bellatrix undid the ties best she could before touching Tia’s shoulders. She brushed off the dress’ straps, and the dress fell to Tia’s hips. Her skin was soft, smooth, and warm.

“I’ll look for your nightshirt.” She trusted Tia, even a half-asleep Tia, to take off the rest of her dress.

Unfortunately, the more Bellatrix looked around, the more annoyance poked at her. She couldn’t see in the dark or find the lamp. Bellatrix paused to watch Tia closely to clear her head. She glowed in the illumination of the outside lights—her figure a silhouette with a humming golden glow around the edges. Neither of them were surprised to see each other naked, even if it made Bellatrix uncomfortable to be seen that way, but she never had stopped to glance over Tia. She was short, but most women were compared to Bellatrix. Her head always rested perfectly against Bellatrix’s neck. If it was one of those rare mornings where the two woke up sleeping on each other, both rested perfectly against the other’s curves. Bellatrix could never get over how beautiful Tia was. Her eyes, her skin, figure, her soft expression. The playful way she spoke and teased. How wise and cunning she could be endlessly surprised Bellatrix. Tia was divine, to put it bluntly—an endless font of knowledge, emotion, heart and soul. The way the light cast itself on her only amplified her serene divinity.

And it crushed Bellatrix that there was a pang of guilt weighing her heart that she felt that way. A woman’s voice would nag and belittle in the back of her head how it was wrong, and not proper for someone like Bellatrix to have wants like that.

Bellatrix wanted Tia. She wanted her to be happier and not always on the verge of tears like Bellatrix too often caught a glance of. Bellatrix wanted Tia’s touch when she was sad and hurting—to be able to return it. A desire to hold her close, and some nights, to have a chance to speak French between her legs.

It wouldn’t happen to Bellatrix’s sadness. It was clear from Tia it wouldn’t. But that couldn’t stop her from trying to be kind. If only to contrast that horrible woman she kept remembering. They shared a face, but Bellatrix needed to split them apart somehow. Care for Tia would be a start, and because she needed it despite her denying so. It wasn’t hard to spot the loneliness in her eyes or the heartbreak on her face.

Something dark haunted her and followed her like a shadow.

Bellatrix took off her shirt, desperately trying to ignore the reflection in the mirror. It was dark, but just enough light from the village caught the glass. She went to Tia who’d sat back down on the bed.

“Arms up.” Tia didn’t argue or disagree. She yawned and mumbled something under her breath. Bellatrix slipped the shirt on her and laid her down. “You need sleep.”

Tia merely nodded against her pillow as Bellatrix covered her in the sheets. She sat on her edge of the bed, arms across her chest, with anxiety stuck in her throat and ribs without anything to cover herself. Minutes passed of her frozen in her spot before she got up and went for the wrappings. Bellatrix made sure they had a place she could easily find for times when the shirts’ charms weren’t enough. She tied them tight and laid down next to Tia.

Sleep, however, evaded her as it always did.

The deep hours of the night came agonizingly slow, and just as sleep found her, Bellatrix awoke. Dawn couldn’t be too long off with the dim light warming the window. It was enough to make out Tia’s shape and how she was curled up much like a cat. Her hand rested in the center of the bed, almost bridging the space between the two.

Bellatrix wished she could see better only to be blinded by a bright blue orb materializing over Tia.

_She can do magic in her sleep…_

However, Bellatrix didn’t like how Tia’s brows knitted together, with the hurt frown on her lips. Her hand gripped the sheets hard and strained. Bellatrix placed her hand on Tia’s. She thumbed over her skin, ignoring the cold sweat from whatever nightmare trapped her.

“Shhhh,” Bellatrix went. “It’s all right.” Despite her desires, she didn’t move closer, but she kept a gentle touch on Tia.

To her pleasure, she settled down minutes later as the blue light faded. Bellatrix fell asleep but never letting go of her. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

* * *

Even with the dense canopy, the early morning sun never failed to be obnoxiously bright. Bellatrix awoke slowly, feeling the other side of the bed was empty, and sitting up despite her spine popping. She rubbed her eyes and yawned. What luck gave her such good sleep? It had been weeks, maybe months, since she’d had such a restful night.

Bellatrix peered up to Tia watching herself in the mirror. She kept her gaze off her body and ignored the blush on her cheeks as she got up.

“Tia,” Bellatrix asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. Tia froze under her touch, and she immediately retracted. “Are you feeling well?” She kept her gaze on the clutter of jewelry and other shiny trinkets on the vanity.

“I cannot begin to tell you, Star,” was the reply. “This form—“Tia clicked her mouth shut only to follow it with a frustrated exhale. Bellatrix caught the near silent, “I wish I could.”

“You’re stressed,” Bellatrix said carefully. She went around the room and picked up two of her charmed shirts. But she froze when she went to take off her bindings. Her back ached because of them, and the compulsion to drag out that pain nagged at her.

Bellatrix’s back was to Tia to give her some needed privacy, but she asked, “Are you looking at your body to make yourself upset?”

She touched her sore back. Bellatrix undid the bindings, swallowing the self-destructive urges, and throwing the shirt on after. “Here,” she said softly, handing Tia one of her shirts.

Tia took it and held it. Bellatrix averted her gaze again until she heard Tia’s breath shake. She glanced up, and Tia glared into the mirror with tired glazed eyes.

“Tia, what’s wrong?” Bellatrix didn’t know what to do, even if she has felt that pain—still felt it—there was nothing she could think of.

“I’m stuck,” Tia snapped. She put the shirt on hastily and glared down at her hands. “I’m stuck in this single form. Unchanging. Even when I need it to.” Tears fell one by one as the anger and pain on Tia’s face increased.

Bellatrix didn’t understand, not to the extent Tia meant. She reached out and held her hand open. Tia paused long enough to flick a glance between it and her. She said nothing, however, nor moved.

“I’m sorry you have to suffer. I’m sorry I can’t help,” Bellatrix whispered.

Tia watched her, and this time it was she who stared back with wonder and astonishment. Bellatrix didn’t push and instead went to the door. “I know the pain I’m in… but...” Her mouth closed, unable to finish. Words beyond curses weren’t her strength. She exited the room quietly. Tia needed space to think and calm; to not have Bellatrix there to bother her.

The doubtful and tempting thought of, “ _Leave. You are only making things worse for her._ ” It felt true. Bellatrix was probably more burden than a help. Who knows how long it had been, and she was still a shell of a person. How much longer would this go on? How much longer would she bother and burden Tia?

Bellatrix watched the front door with those thoughts looping in her mind.

She jerked at Tia’s sudden voice. It’s smooth tone replaced by raspy choked words. “You’re not a burden,” Tia said from the archway. But that’s all she said.

Bellatrix caught a glimpse her leave for the back rooms, but remained, attention returned to the front door. She didn’t know if she believed her.

* * *

Days passed, and Bellatrix had kept her distance. She sat in the back room, waiting for instructions from Tia. It was one of the rare times a client barged in and demanded help.

“ _The nerve of some people,_ ” Bellatrix would think only to be reminded by a vague memory, she once was that person.

Whatever the client wanted was denied to him, and he let out a rant of worse than vile slurs at Tia. Bellatrix was in the front room in seconds; standing over the man and glaring down at him. She narrowed her eyes and for a moment, channeled the evil person she remembered. For a moment she was Bellatrix Lestrange again. She merely drummed her fingers impatiently across her arms, and it was enough to make him back up.

Bellatrix pulled out a dagger from inside her sleeve she kept close for emergencies. This could count as one.

“How to carve you,” Bellatrix hissed.

The man bolted out of the door, leaving Bellatrix frozen and pretending to not know she was shaking. His fear was delicious, and a rush went through her. The adrenaline must be the reason for the shaking because Bellatrix was tired of acknowledging the fear of herself.

“That’s the first you’ve talked in days,” Tia said. Bellatrix didn’t turn around. She fiddled with the blade in her hands. “Bellatrix…”

“He made me angry. So, of course I talked. To threatened him.” Bellatrix glanced back, eyes narrowed, her body cold and numb. Tia tensed as the two made eye contact. It wasn’t fear, but perhaps sorrow filling Tia’s gaze. “And because of what he said to you,” she finished quieter, but not softer or sweet. Bellatrix couldn’t swallow the coldness this time or how her voice shook with lingering rage.

Tia observed her. As Bellatrix passed, she caught her arm. “Stay, please.”

Bellatrix watched back. Feeling returned to her as Tia ran fingers over her hand.

“If that’s what you want.” It came out harsh and scratched her throat. Bellatrix sat with Tia at the divination table in quiet, but there was no peace to the atmosphere.

“I can handle an angry visitor. Most of these mortals have no idea of who they are provoking. I didn’t need you to interfere.”

Bellatrix stabbed the dagger into the table. “I hate men who raise their voice.” She was too embarrassed to voice the protective impulse that filled her veins when around her. There was too much dancing between the two that they both ignored.

“Why have you been quiet lately?” Bellatrix couldn’t tell if Tia ignored her answer or was thinking on it. Her face was pretty but frustratingly unreadable.

She removed her dagger from the wood and hid it back in her sleeve. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

Tia shook her head. “Far from it, Star.”

Bellatrix looked at her, feeling cold again, but from sadness. “My memory told me… from your expressions… looks… you didn’t want me around.”

“Truly memory of me, or him.” Tia hissed ‘him’ as if it was the foulest tasting word she’d ever spoken.

“Yes. Him and father’s.” Even with what she’d pieced together, there were gaps, and frustrating feelings she couldn’t figure out the roots of. The symptoms came and went as reactions to the cause, and that being Cygnus and Voldemort.

Thinking his name caused a shudder to rack through her. Bellatrix still could not say it, nor the name Tom. Anything she told Tia he merely was ‘Master’ or ‘My Lord’. Both words stung her tongue like she’d eaten too much pineapple and let it linger.

Tia sat, arms crossed, but her gaze set on the table. “Do you think of me like them, because of my power?” Bellatrix did not enjoy the hurt tone.

She went to Tia and laid a hand on her shoulder. “No. You’re far better. I’d rather be near you any day.”

Her hand touched Bellatrix’s gently, thumbing over it. She said nothing for moments with a thoughtful curve to her brows. “Those men aren’t here. You’re safe—“

“With you, I am,” Bellatrix murmured.

“Let’s have a talk, then.” Tia motioned for Bellatrix to sit, and she did, reluctantly. “About this stress. It’s similar but different as well. Unfortunately, I’m under a…” She thought harder for a long moment. “I’m under a curse. There are ways to help, but I cannot help myself. My form is stuck, rigid like I wish it weren’t. What it used to be, it’s no longer. I’m trapped in this state.

“But perhaps I could help you.”

Bellatrix swallowed hard. “You can help? I remember looking through so many books… but all the spells were said to never work right or wouldn’t be permanent.” She narrowed her eyes but not harshly. Something was odd about Tia. Not sinister or cruel. But Bellatrix had an inkling Tia’s beautiful divinity was more than her sappy affections. The harder she thought, the more likely it seemed. Tia had power Bellatrix had never seen in the two strongest wizards of her proper time. If anything, that power only aided the attraction. Neither Dumbledore or Voldemort had to ability to raise the dead, which Tia had done once already and clearly planned to do again.

“It may take time. It may not work. But if you want me to try, I will.”

Bellatrix sighed with relief—true relief—only to shift back into stress. “What’s the payment for it? And what about you? I’m tired of you mothering me without you letting me help.”

Tia merely chuckled. “You are so very different from the Bellatrix I remember.” She looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers around each other, thinking too loudly. “No payment this time. Just your patience.”

Bellatrix bit her tongue. That both sounded like a compliment and an insult. But the playful gaze Tia gave her causes a soft burn in her cheeks and a little between her legs. Curiously enough as Bellatrix cracked a nervous smile, so did Tia. It was like being a teen again stealing glances at Alecto.

Tia’s smile remained as she asked, “Is it you fancy yourself a man?” Her eyes flicked over Bellatrix, inspecting. “You’d make a handsome one.” Another glance over, “a very handsome one.”

Bellatrix didn’t understand the warm feeling in her chest being called handsome. It could’ve been joy if she knew what that was. She used to but it’s been a long time, and the dementors shut out all memory of it.

“Some part of that you liked. You’re glowing.” Tia shifted in her seat, looking more casual and comfortable. “You have a nice smile.”

She stiffened, unknowing how to respond. Bellatrix crossed her legs and arms thinking. There wasn’t a way she could think to word her feelings. They were so heavy and foreign even if they took an uncomfortable familiarity throughout her whole life. That she remembered at the very least.

“I don’t think I want to be a man… am one? I use to wonder what it would be like... Of course, I never told anyone about those fantasies. Threw the idea away as being frustrated my life. But the... uh... physique was appealing. I’d get jealous of that me that popped up in my daydreams. But man? No. Not exactly.”

A deep blush took her cheeks, and she bit her lip to keep her mouth shut. It was more than just her chest. But it was impossible to put into words the confusing and fluctuating feelings about what should be between her legs. And embarrassment filled her at the idea of telling Tia of all people.

Bellatrix instead sighed and tapped her fingers. “It’s stupid. I’m just being dramatic.”

“It’s not,” Tia snapped. Bellatrix desperately tried to fight the involuntary flinch. “If you don’t want to talk, so be it, but don’t toss your feelings away.”

She glanced up at Tia with surprise. “I don’t… Aren’t they just foolish fantasies?” Her voice strained as she tried to not remember. Pieces of the puzzle would flicker in to remind Bellatrix of how she was wrong, dramatic, erratic. All a woman’s voice often accompanied by a man’s, two men’s.

_It’s not proper for a pureblood like you. Have standards Bellatrix._

Tia shook her head. She gestured for Bellatrix to continue speaking. Bellatrix bit her lip and finally said, “I don’t know how to say it. I don’t feel like either a woman or a man. Some days… some days I can feel like either, but not often, or even being it. I don’t know. I feel like I don’t belong. It’s stupid, but even being called ‘she’ makes me want to cry… but lately, everything makes me cry.”

Bellatrix tightened her grip on her arms. “How pathetic,” she hissed at herself. “Just how weak am I? I’m crying all the time. I’m scared. At least the bitch I remember wasn’t openly an emotional wreck. Fearless.”

_Reckless._

“Bellatrix,” Tia said. It was soft but stern.

She looked at Tia while clenching her jaw so tight it hurt. Her nails dug into her skin painfully.

“That was her problem. From your tales, she never let herself feel. She never admitted she was hurting. She pretended it all away, yes?”

Bellatrix nodded. “It’s better to just not feel. To just forget. Move on.”

Something passed over Tia’s expression. It was shadowy, but Bellatrix couldn’t decipher it. Either way, she looked personally wounded. “Life is more than just existing and enduring. I imagine Bellatrix, you or her must be exhausted.”

She could only nod. That’s all she did: exist, endure, survive another day with no rest or comfort. All she had were her lies to herself to keep her sanity from fracturing permanently. She knew they were lies, maybe not always, but now she did. What else did she have though?

“ _Tia and Jack, you idiot,_ ” said her voice, but exasperated, distant, and cocky but it was a strange mix of her now and Madame Lestrange.

Tia’s voice returned her to the present. It’s soft, comforting tones gracing Bellatrix’s ears, inciting calm for the moment. “I’m not a woman or a man. I’m outside of it all. But you’re like me. We’re free to be what we want and who we are. Change as the tide does. It’s just our mortal cages are not as free as our souls.”

Bellatrix slowly put a hand over her mouth as Tia’s words echoed in her head. _You’re like me._ She wasn’t quick enough to stop herself, and Bellatrix broke down crying. Her shoulders shook and ached with her ribs as sobs racked her body. Tears blurred her vision.

_I’m not alone._

A gentle hand touched her back and rubbed it soothingly. “He,” Tia hissed, “probably told you it was strange or wrong.”

Bellatrix nodded and managed a hurt, “mother, father, everyone.” She cursed loudly that she couldn’t stop crying. “I’m not alone,” Bellatrix said weakly. Tia must have cast a spell as warmth flowed through her. Bellatrix wiped her eyes harshly still angry she broke down at all. But Tia’s hand never left her back.

“I prefer to look this way, but my curse has trapped me as it. But I’m not a woman. No matter how many men want to push me into that image. I won’t push you like that. That’s cruelty even I refuse to do.

Everyone belongs somewhere and somehow. Not even you are the exception to the world’s weird.”

Bellatrix looked up at her with so many questions bouncing in her skull. Tia was more than a witch, but what she couldn’t place. She should be grateful this powerful being cared this much. Later she’d panic about it. There was too much to handle already.

“But what options do I have besides ‘he’? That not right. It hurts, less, but still hurts.”

“They,” Tia said. She ran her fingers through Bellatrix’s hair. “Whatever you wish.”

That vision she had weeks ago jumped to the forefront of her mind. It was her, that self she kept locked away as a stupid childish curiosity, fantasy. A small sliver of hope took root in her heart. Hope was a strange feeling. It burned, but in a way, Bellatrix could tolerate, like an overbearing warm hug.

“They,” Bellatrix repeated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the best, but not every chapter can be a winner. I did my best.
> 
> Edit: Taking a long break because honestly I don’t really want to write anymore. (I am chapters ahead but haven’t met the threshold for posting a chapter.) Not for the time being. It’s not fun or satisfying anymore. Sorry for the inconvenience.


End file.
